Captain Of His Soul
by Marcher
Summary: CHAPTER 20. What prompted the O'Connell's to depart Egypt and head for London. A bit of everything Angst Romance Drama Humour
1. Quarrel In The Car

A story has developed from good ideas passed onto me by A.J.Mackey, so fully deserved credit is given to her because what follows would not have been written otherwise. A small part of this story relates to the attack on Evelyn which took place in 'Homecoming'. If you haven't read that, then just know that she was attacked and Rick's retribution will take place somewhere in this story. Please enjoy.  
  
  
  
Captain Of His Soul By Marcher  
  
PG  
  
I'm on high ground Put this weight down  
  
Of one thing you can be sure  
  
On the ocean ships are sailin'  
  
But I don't need them anymore (Steve Prestwich)  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Evelyn sat in the front seat of her brother's car while her angry husband steered the vehicle though the crowded streets in the direction of the Fort. The mood between them was hostile and frosty. Quite an achievement, given the stiffling heat of the midday sun.  
  
Neither had spoken a word to each other since, in her opinion, he had rudely escorted her from the Museum's Library and ushered her into the waiting car. She sat, arms folding tightly across her chest, fuming at his actions. There was no, 'by your leave' or 'Evelyn, I'm concerned about you.' No, he just barged in mid way through a discussion with the Curator, grabbed her by the arm and led her from the building. To complicate her fury, he hadn't even had the decency to offer an excuse for the embarrassment he had caused, nor any suggestion of what she might say to her employer the next day.  
  
She ventured a stern look in his direction and snapped, "I suppose an apology is too much to ask for?"  
  
He took his eyes from the road for only a moment, but it was long enough to relay a look of positive anger and dissent. Without so much as a word he had relayed his message and Evelyn had received it loud and clear. She was in serious trouble with this one! She dared not admit the fatigue which now hovered over her in case it produced a barrage of rebuke from him, something she was certain she could not tolerate right now.  
  
She leaned her elbow on the door, letting her head rest in her hand as the journey home continued on silently. She had never seen Rick this angry in their short marriage and was at a loss as how to handle him. When she had slipped away this morning, she had imagined him being slightly annoyed at her, but overall he would have understood her reasons. Perhaps even sympathized a little with her plight. She couldn't have been more wrong! What she had mistaken for gentle firmness, was in fact his final word on the subject.  
  
The car glided to a halt and with a turn of the key, the engine ceased it's rumbling. Rick pushed his door open so fiercely, it almost swung back onto his knees. She sat soberly and watched him walk around the front of the car to her door. Their eyes met briefly and Evelyn took the opportunity to sneak in a tender, apologetic glance, but to little avail. Rick grunted and with an irritated sigh he firmly grabbed the door handle and opened it wide enough for her to exit the vehicle. She struggled a little with the awkwardness of the angle, prompting the automatic response from him to take her hand and guide her carefully over the curve. She smiled her thanks, but Rick's expression didn't offer any hint of him relinquishing his ire.  
  
"I see the Legion's back in town." Evelyn commented on noticing the familiar uniform worn by two young men on the opposite side the street.  
  
O'Connell looked, but merely grunted.  
  
Annoyed, Evelyn pushed the car door shut with a bang, "Is this to be the extent of your conversation for the remainder of the day?"  
  
"Just go inside, Evelyn!"  
  
***  
  
Jonathan met the angry couple at the door of their quarters just as a disgruntled child pushed his way between his legs making a bee line for his parents. Rick scooped the toddler up and pushed the door wider in order to pass his brother-in- law. The icy mood of the moment settled quickly over Jonathan and he made his excuses to leave, muttering something under his breath to do with the common lack of appreciation offered for the endless times he'd inconvenienced himself at O'Connell's insistance.  
  
Evelyn stood on the threshold and stared about the room in despair, "Am I to be permitted to leave again? Or do I need to follow orders and stay put until you command otherwise?"  
  
"This isn't a joke, Evelyn!" Rick stood at the window, still carrying his small son, and watched the two Legionnaires across the way.  
  
"It's not a sentence, either!" argued Evelyn, although the desire to sit had become overwhelming and she was losing the inclination to argue with him. Alex began to fidget in his father's arms and Evelyn walked over to take him. For convenience however, she sat on the large window sill to be able to take the full weight of the child in her lap. Furthermore, it delayed her husband's recognition of just how exhausted she was. Rick quietly stepped away from the window and poured two drinks. A whiskey for himself and a tall glass of water for his wife. He placed the glass beside her and walked away, sipping gratefully from his own nectar.  
  
Evelyn let out a short gasp and Rick spun around to see her holding her hand to her lips as she stared down onto the street. "What's wrong?" He was still considerably angry with her, but when he spoke now his voice adopted an element of concern.  
  
"Down there." She pointed to the street, in particular to one of the Legionnaires who was haggling with a merchant.  
  
Rick stood by her side and shook his head, "What?"  
  
"That's him! The taller one!" She looked up at her husband, who was still none the wiser for what she was talking about. Evelyn placed the boy onto the floor and quickly rose from the ledge for fear she might be seen. "That's him, Rick! The one who came here while you were in Syria!"  
  
O'Connell leaned into the window and studied the man carefully. His eyes squinted in an attempt to get a better view of him, "I don't know him." He looked back at his wife, "You sure it's him?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure!" Evelyn was agitated and wringing her hands. That was enough to convince Rick. He tilted his head to swig the remainder of his whiskey and put his glass down. 


	2. Missed Opportunity

Thought I was going to be scolded for all the arguing and slamming doors, but it was nice to see people get into the fighting couple....just think...they get to make up sooner or later! ;) Thank and smiles to all you lovely people for reviewing. Kat, yes ass will be kicked, but you'll have to wait a little while yet. Angel Ruse, no flowers, sorry ;) And if anyone is a keen Jonathan fan...my apologies in advance! Hope you like!  
  
  
  
  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL By Marcher PG  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
  
If he had been called upon to describe the loathsome feeling in the pit of his stomach at this moment, he would have been found wanting. O'Connell had never been a man able to appropriately express the emotions which stirred his heart. However, as a soldier of old, he had no trouble dealing out rough justice to those who stepped out of line, or stole from him. What he was setting out to do would be seen a matter of honour to anyone complete with a stable background. To Rick, it was simply payback. As far as he was concerned, there was no diplomatic solution to this and his retribution would be swift, possibly painful.  
  
Evelyn watched anxiously while he collected two pistols and secured them to his body. He hadn't said a word since she'd recognized the Legionnaire, in fact he hadn't said much all afternoon, but what angered him now was a totally different matter. Still, she couldn't be sure that the sighting of her assailant wasn't just compounding their earlier quarrel, thus setting him on angry rampage fueled by both fires.  
  
She lifted her small son from the floor and out of the way of his father's heavy footsteps, "What are you going to do?"  
  
He answered without turning to her, failing to convey the desired level of innocence he'd intended, "Talk to him."  
  
"Don't do anything that's going to put you back in jail!"  
  
"I'm just gonna find out who he is."  
  
"Armed?!"  
  
He stopped to look at her. For a brief moment his anger was forgotten when he caught the look of worry written all over her face. "Look. The last time I had anything to do with the Legion, I ended up riding all the way to Syria and back and nearly died doing it! This is just a precaution, that's all." His innocent, boyish smile did nothing to calm his wife and he sighed with defeat. "Trust me! If it is him, all I'm going to do is find out why he's not still locked up...why he's still in the Legion for that matter!" Evelyn offered a pleading look. He ran his hand under his son's chin and tried to gently reassure her. "I promise. I won't hurt anyone."  
  
"Of course you do!"  
  
He kissed her forehead and rubbed a hand across her belly. Then taking a sterner tone, he warned "You stay here and take it easy, like you're supposed to!" She frowned, disappointed that he refused to let it drop. Her reaction only strengthened his resolve and he cast her a piercing look which left no room for doubt. "No more falling over or running off until things settle down!" Understand!"  
  
"I'm perfectly well and you know it!"  
  
"Good! And you're gonna stay that way!"  
  
Assuming his anger had peaked, Evelyn chanced a rebuke of her own, "I don't appreciate one bit of what you did today!" As quickly as she'd spoken, she realized her mistake. This Legion business had only distracted him from the point and she wasn't out of the woods yet. Rick's eyes flashed and she groaned quite audibly when he continued to scold her.  
  
  
  
"When you start falling down steps from dizzy spells and then scamper off all over the city before the bruises have even healed, then it's time someone pulled you into line! And that's me!"  
  
She sucked in a breath, ready to retaliate in her usual indignant manner, but was almost immediately silenced by her husband's pointed finger and sharp tongue, "You're not the only one who has a say in this, Evie! This is my baby too!"  
  
The room fell uncomfortably silent and the pair stood looking acrimoniously at one another. Pushing a hand through his hair, Rick heaved an exhausted sigh and reached for the door, "I'll be back in an hour."  
  
Jonathan almost fell into the room from missing the door handle as O'Connell opened it to leave. He lurched forward crashing into his brother-in-law. An awkward and abrupt halt, but he was at the least grateful to have avoided the floor. Rick grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him upright, visibly irritated by his presence. "What now?!"  
  
Jonathan tugged at his jacket and patted down his hair in an attempt to regain his composure, then rattled his car keys in Rick's face, "I'll tell you what now! What have you done to my car?"  
  
Rick smacked the keys away, "Nothing!"  
  
"Well, it was perfectly fine before I let you get your hands on it! Now the bloody thing won't go!"  
  
"So? I don't have time for this Jonathan, it's not my problem!"  
  
"Well you could at least give me a hand pushing it off the street until I can find someone who knows something about it!"  
  
O'Connell hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. This was definately not one of the better days. "Come on!" He pushed Jonathan into the hallway, thinking to himself that he had married into the most infuriating family!  
  
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Rick observed Jonathan offhandedly, "Forget the car! I haven't got time for it." Without so much as glancing towards him, Rick began making his way outside until his curiosity was ignited by the urgent secrecy Jonathan displayed by grabbing hold of his arm and pulling up against the wall.  
  
"There's nothing the matter with the car."  
  
Rick's gaze shifted to the direction in which Carnahan was pointing and nodded his understanding on seeing the two Legionnaires. "So Evie was right. It is him."  
  
"Absolutely! No doubt about it. I wanted to get you down here without upsetting her and the car was all I could think of."  
  
O'Connell rewarded him with a firm slap on the back, "Nah! She's already seen him."  
  
"I see. How's she handling it?"  
  
Rick tilted his head and frowned with a mocking sympathy, "She doesn't want any trouble. So I said I'd just talk to him!"  
  
"Aah, yes!"  
  
He plucked a gun from it's holster and directed the handle towards Jonathan, "You wanna be in on this?"  
  
Jonathan accepted the weapon willingly, "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"  
  
The American's eyes glinted with reprisal and he smiled wickedly as the two made their way onto the street. They hadn't walked a few paces, when the street erupted with shouting and pedestrians scattered in all directions! A sudden screech of brakes sounded from behind them and the marketplace became bedlam as a car crashed through the crowd scattering everything in it's wake. "Look out!" O'Connell reached out to grab Jonathan, only just missing him! He turned his head, cringing, as the side of the car slammed into his companion and knocked him heavily onto the dirt road. The street became unusually quiet, save for Jonathan's agonizing cries. O'Connell opened his eyes slowly to find him writhing on the ground in what must have been horrible pain, his leg a bloody mess! "Jonathan!" Rick stumbled to his side and crouched over him, checking the extent of the injury, "Damn!"  
  
The crowd about them was beginning to regroup to view the result of the chaos, when three inebriated middle-aged English tourists pushed their way through the bodies to get a glimpse of their accidental victim. "Our most sincere apologies, gentleman." Looking up, Rick saw an over weight drunkard dressed in a badly fitting safari suit. For a moment he was consumed by a sarcastic thought as he wondered if this was the standard dress of Englishman who travelled to the middle east. Was it actually comfortable to wear, or did it just make them stand out as naive sightseers and easy prey for the merchants? Whatever the reason, there was no time to consider it for an odious round face was pressing up to him, spitting out it's apology. "Awfully difficult this driving on the opposite side of the road lark. Causes all sorts of trouble."  
  
Rick nodded distainfully and slightly pushed him away but it was enough to set the drunkard off balance and he landed on his backside. This brought a murmured chuckle from the crowd, but Jonathan's anger was amplified by his pain and the dirt loged in this throat and he roared at the oaf, "You barking lunatic!" You could have bloody killed me! O'Connell!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah!" Rick rose to his feet just as the local authorities arrived. He was grateful for their intervention as it released him from having to revenge his brother-in-law's broken leg. He surveyed the crowd for any sign of the man he had set out to snare. Nothing! The crush of people made it impossible to catch any glimpse of him. He swore again and returned his attention to the roadside casualty and, of course, there was his wife kneeling in the dust beside her brother with Alex attached to her hip.  
  
He reached down and lifted his son at the same time extending an arm around Evelyn's back, helping her to stand. She was concerned for her brother and her remarks were an endless string of distressed questions and disbelief. "He'll be all right, Evie." It was a standard reassurance, but Rick felt it was pretty accurate, "It's just his leg."  
  
"What happened?!"  
  
"They happened!" Rick cocked his head in the direction of the drunken tourists being carted off to the Watch House. "Some of your guys, hooning around Cairo! C'mon, back inside." Rick had his arm about her shoulder and was leading her back into the relative cool of the fort. Evelyn strained her neck to check behind her and was somewhat relieved to spy the two Sentry Guards disperse the crowd then lift Jonathan onto a stretcher.  
  
****  
  
Hours had passed since the surgeon had attended to Jonathan's injuries and it was only now that the whiskey was beginning to take effect and relieve the more severe edge of the pain. The cast was awkward and cumbersome and Jonathan's mood was laced with self pity and rage.  
  
Ignoring her husband's persistant urging to the contrary, Evelyn had spent the evening fussing over her brother and stopped only when Rick took her by the shoulders and made her sit. At last realizing there was nothing more she could do for him, she attempted to smother a deep yawn then picked up her overtired son and offered her goodnights. On closing the bedroom door, she rolled her eyes at the familiar clink of glasses which signalled the decision by the men to drain the remainder of the whiskey bottle.  
  
Rick sat with his feet stretched up on the arm of Jonathan's couch, his fingers circling the rim of the glass resting in his lap. He barely heard Jonathan's babbling as his thoughts ran through the course of the day. However, Jonathan soon commanded his attention with a rude shout, "Well!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Pass the rug! If I'm to be laid up here until they fix the harness over my own bed, could I at least be warm?"  
  
Rick twisted in the chair to look behind him. On seeing the checkered bed cover, he reached over to oblige the patient then sank back into his chair.  
  
Jonathan threw the covering over his body, then he too made himself comfortable and sighed, "Bloody useless turn of events." He looked over at O'Connell, "We didn't get very far, did we?"  
  
"Lost him in the crowd." Rick drained his glass and set it aside. "But he won't be that hard to find." He leaned forward and strained to remove one boot, then the other and threw them into the corner. Rising from the chair, he patted Jonathan's shoulder, bid him goodnight and went to join Evelyn.  
  
He found her nestled in the bed with Alex, at last drifting off to sleep in her arms. He crept in behind her, moving himself into her back and stretched his arm across the both of them.  
  
"Sleeping in your clothes, then?" She whispered.  
  
"Yep! Too tired to move."  
  
Evelyn turned her head slightly to look at him and whispered. "I'm sorry for today."  
  
He kissed her hair lightly, "Go to sleep."  
  
"I have to earn a living though."  
  
Rick groaned deeply and pushed his head into the pillow. "No, you don't! You just can't stay away from the place!" Once again, silence prevailed between the couple before Rick stared up at the ceiling and offered what was to be his very best attempt at a compromise. He ventured gently and cautiously into the abyss of the pregnant mood swings and whispered, "You don't need to earn anything, Evelyn, but you do need to be careful." She hadn't said anything so far and he took that to be a good sign, "I've got no problem with the Museum once the baby's here, but just take it easy for now. For me. It's not much longer."  
  
Without speaking, she leaned her head into his and he felt her gently nod her agreement against his cheek. With this part of their headstrong clash settled, she was about to request a surrender of her own.  
  
"So you didn't catch up with that Legionnaire at all?" In her heart she was thankful Rick had missed his opportunity, but it came at an awful cost.  
  
"I didn't get a chance. I was pushing your brother's car, remember." His voice was mufffled by her hair and half a bottle of whiskey, both convenient covers for his untruth.  
  
"So you won't go looking again tomorrow?" There was no reply. "Rick!"  
  
"No, I won't go looking."  
  
"Promise me!"  
  
"I promise, now go to sleep!"  
  
She didn't believe him and he knew it well enough. He'd lost his chance today, but that meant nothing. He made a plan in his mind that she would never find out when and where he took care of this thug, but now that he'd seen him, he couldn't let it drop. This guy was going to pay! He took in the scent of her hair and slept.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**** more later! :) 


	3. The Joy Of Old Friends Who Know You So W...

Ross Campbell is a creation of my own muddled imagination. All others belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios.  
  
Don't you hate those chapters which take forever to write and only set up the plot and a new character? I do...and here it is! Many sincere thanks to all of you out there who have been so kind as to read and review. I always get a buzz from what you have to say. Hope you all enjoy. :)  
  
  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL By Marcher  
  
CHAPTER 3 PG  
  
  
  
Rick stirred and groaned at the light streaming through the window. He layed his arm across his eyes, shielding them from the burning brightness of morning and complained aloud. No answer. Not even the sound of his wife's characteristic groan. He lifted his arm just enough and peered about the empty bedroom. Alex was not in his crib, there was no sign of Evelyn and the door was firmly shut. O'Connell grumbled under his breath at the thought of having to fetch her from the Museum again. Why was she so damned stubborn and single minded? If Alex had been left in the care of his crippled uncle, he swore he would tie her to the bed until this baby was born!  
  
He rose from the bed and awkwardly made his way to the window, blocking the sun with one hand and tugged the curtain closed with the other. Another of her traits, to fling open the window coverings instantly upon waking. These early morning displays of sunshine were too reminiscent of the Legion for him but it was, after all, Evelyn. Gradually, her hushed voice began to filter through to his senses and he smiled, somewhat relieved. She was in the next room with Jonathan. A touch of guilt crossed his features for jumping to conclusions and he promised himself to go easy and curb his arbitrary attitude, at least where she was concerned.  
  
Any ideas of a peaceful morning were shattered when he opened the bedroom door to find his wife pale and agitated, pacing the room and biting the end of her thumb. On spying him, she released a hasty barrage of information regarding Jonathan, most of which sailed right past him. He had just woken from a whisky induced sleep and, if he dared admit it to himself, his head was hosting a dull ache. However, Evelyn's worry appeared to be in earnest and she wasn't looking well. Placing an arm around her shoulder and a finger to her lips he encouraged her to start from the beginning.  
  
She deliberately removed his hand from her face, watching it all the way until it rested by his side, then returned her gaze to his and snapped, "There's no time for that! Haven't you been listening?"  
  
He looked over at his recumbent brother-in-law and shrugged. "Yeah, Jonathan. Still sleeping it off."  
  
Evelyn stepped out of her husband's arm and fussed over her brother with a damp cloth. "He's passed out, Rick! Unconscious! Burning with fever!"  
  
Rick's brow furrowed slightly as he looked from Evelyn to Jonathan. To him, Jonathan looked much the same as he always did after a night on the booze. The only difference today being the plaster cast on his leg. "You sure?" He stepped over for a closer inspection of his brother-in-law.  
  
"Of course I'm sure! I've just sent word for a doctor to be brought to him!"  
  
Rick looked up at his wife, then again at Jonathan, leaning over slightly to place the palm of his hand against his forehead. She was right! Overnight, Jonathan had developed one hell of a fever and was as white as a sheet. He ran a hand along Jonathan's cast and idly suggested that the wound must be infected.  
  
Evelyn almost shouted at his imperturbable attitude, "This is serious, Rick! He could die from such a high fever!"  
  
"Hey, hey." O'Connell was caught off guard by her hysterics and stepped towards her, placing an arm around her shoulder and inviting her to sit. She had worked herself into a state where tears threatened to cascade and he found himself once again dealing with the sibling devotion which had always been alien to him. The connection between brother and sister was something that he was still only in the beginnings of understanding. He sat beside her and gently pulled her towards him, "Sshh, he'll be alright Sweetheart. He won't die of a broken leg." Evelyn began to complain along the lines of her husband completely missing the urgency of the situation when a knock at the door stole their attention. "See. Calvary's arrived." He stood to open the door, but noticed the look in her eye which suggested he needed to take a more serious approach to the matter, or perhaps even get dressed. He glanced down at his attire which had doubled as sleepwear and reluctantly retreated to the bedroom, allowing his wife to greet the doctor.  
  
As he changed, Rick could hear ample concerned comments and questioning from Evelyn accompanied by the busy rustling of medical equipment as it was pulled from what he could only imagine as a worn, but sturdy black bag. A wicked grin crept over his lips as he pictured the doctor unable to get a word in. He rejoined his wife once he had shaved and was pleasantly surprised to lay eyes on an old friend. "Ross!?"  
  
Both Evelyn and the doctor turned their attention to him and the middle- aged man rose to meet O'Connell with a firm handshake and a hearty laugh befitting his age and build. Evelyn watched curiously as the two greeted each other in the manner that old friends do. This was one of the few times she had known Rick to welcome someone so wholly and hesitated before she spoke. However, Jonathan was still her priority at the moment which led her to courteously interupt, "You two are certainly well aquainted."  
  
"Sorry Evie." O'Connell placed a firm and friendly hand on the doctor's shoulder and introduced him. "Ross Campbell, this is my wife, Evelyn."  
  
She smiled, "Yes. We met at the door."  
  
"Saved my life once." The American happily slapped his friend's shoulder, "Best damned doctor I ever came across in the Legion."  
  
Campbell grunted self conciously before jesting in a thick Yorkshire accent, "I wouldn't exactly call m'self a Legionnaire. It was more to be fortune smiling on ya...and bleeding big inconvenience for me!"  
  
O'Connell laughed knowingly as his friend returned his attention to Jonathan, "Still, it's good to see you again, Ross."  
  
"And you, my lad."  
  
Jonathan's condition concerned the stout medic and he questioned the treatment which had been administered. Evelyn explained everything from the impact of the car to the absence of the regular Fort Surgeon. Where upon they had to settle for his son who had confidently claimed to be a keen student of his father's method and proceeded to treat her brother. Campbell offered no noticable facial expression on hearing Evelyn's tale, he simply clipped shut his case and stood. "The man needs to be taken to the Infirmary." He pointed to Jonathan's injured leg, continuing his orders without missing a beat. "That cast needs coming off! My guess is there's a wound 'neath it needing a damn good sterilize!" Evelyn rose nervously to her feet, fully intending to accompany her brother but was taken aback by the doctor's forthright opinion of her condition, "And you, Lass, look as though you need sleep, so be off to ya bed!"  
  
As Evelyn opened her mouth in response to what she considered was a supererogatory remark on Campbell's behalf, she was hampered by Rick's quick intervention as he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and spoke calmly. "Jonathan's in good hands, trust me." His smile carried within it a plea for her to heed the doctor's advice, then kissed the tip of her nose "I'll go with Ross. Mind Alex, take it easy and I'll be back as soon as I can with all the news."  
  
At first, Evelyn betrayed a sense of doubt about the entire situation, but her husband's unremitting gaze along with the mollified stroking of her arms eventually brought her to agree with a hesitant sigh, "As long as you're sure."  
  
****  
  
Placing Jonathan into the rear seat of Campbell's red Daimler was no easy task. He was a dead weight and groaned amid his delirium as the two men stood either side of the car and literally forced him inside. Rick lifting him by the shoulders and heaving him, while Ross Campbell stood roadside and dragged him in by the legs. Once they had him loaded onto the leather seats, Rick slammed the door shut and leaned against the roof of the car catching his breath. "You sure that was the best way of getting him in there?"  
  
Equally out of breath, Campbell replied exhibiting the same larrikin traits as his younger companion and he laughed, "I doubt we could do any worse than the car that hit 'im!" He wiped his brow, opening the door to the driver's seat. "Besides which, I doubt very much that leg is broken!"  
  
Rick took a moment to run his hand appreciatively along the panels of the car smiling at it's design, then settled himself into the passenger seat next to his friend. Still admiring the dashboard, he absently looked at Campbell, curious to know why he hadn't started the car. The Yorkshireman cocked his head into the rear of the vehicle and suggested that O'Connell might take the back seat in case the patient landed on the floor during the trip! Rick sat motionless for a moment, then grumbled an affirmation before heaving himself out of the front and into the back to watch over Jonathan. "You said he's gonna be okay, right?"  
  
"Oh aye, Yank. He'll live!"  
  
****  
  
It was with relief from both O'Connell and Dr.Campbell that they didn't need to repeat their performance of head to toe when extracting Jonathan from the car. Orderlies from the hospital were called into handle the patient, however in truth, they applied a very similiar method. Rick cringed a little when Jonathan's injured leg knocked against the car door and when he was practically bounced into a wheelchair to the tune of Ross Campbell bellowing for them to take care not to dismember the Englishman before actually getting him inside the door. O'Connell scratched the back of his head and thanked his lucky stars that his wife was absent at such a prestigious event at the Cairo Hospital!  
  
****  
  
The time spent waiting for word on Jonathan seemed eternal as Rick paced the shabby corridors. No waiting room was afforded for those family members who kept vigil for the patients and his mind wandered to the events of the previous day and his lost opportunity at collaring the Legionnaire which Evelyn had identified. It occured to him that the camp was only about half a mile from the hospital and any delay in his return to the Fort could be explained away as waiting for news on Jonathan. The idea appealed nicely to him, however he had left with Campbell this morning without his guns and he weighed the situation in his mind. It would only be a matter of days before the Regiment moved out again and he couldn't see another possibilty of slipping away from Evelyn under guise presenting itself again anytime soon, so his decision was a natural one. He would seize the chance while he had it.  
  
A door opened and closed behind him and the former soldier turned to see his doctor friend approaching with the most satisfied of expressions stretched across his face. His brown eyes beamed in the jolly fashion which was typical of him and Campbell announced his success with a clap and vigorous hand rubbing. "I was right, y'know. No broken bones and a severely infected gash down the leg. I'll tell ya, these backward places can kill a man as soon as look at 'im."  
  
"So why put a cast on a leg that's not broken?"  
  
"Overkill, m'boy. If it looks efficient, the idea's that it probably is."  
  
"You planing on keeping him in here for a while?"  
  
"Nah. You can take 'im home."  
  
Rick inhaled anxiously and rubbed his chin. He had at least planned on Jonathan being admitted overnight which would give him an alibi for his intended detour. Ross took in the effect his announcement had cast over the younger man and suggested an alternative. "Well it isn't critical, but I suppose I could keep an eye over him overnight just t'make sure." He watched O'Connell's immediate change in manner and the doctor narrowed his eyes. "You're not planning on foolin' around behind that pretty one's back, are ya?"  
  
Rick was startled out of his thoughts, "No! No, of course not!"  
  
"Aye. I've spent enough time with lads like y'self and I know what ye's get up to. I was a lad meself once." Campbell's look was so knowing it irritated the American, which drew a smirk from the doctor. "Ya forgetting how well I know ya, O'Connell."  
  
Rick took a step back, half spinning around, then faced his friend once again with an equally mischievous grin. "Yeah, yeah! Alright. Look, I've just got some business to attend to which is kinda delicate and won't go down to well at home, you know?  
  
"Well so long as it doesn't see ya turning up on my operating table again, mum's the word...and I'll keep an eye on ya crippled mate in there."  
  
O'Connell winked in thanks, patting his friend on the back as he stepped away and made his way onto the heated streets. 


	4. Honorable retribution is never straightf...

Thank you, I really mean it. Lula, Marxbros, Seletha, MBooker, Nora, Eviefan, Princess ZeldaBelle, Kat, Seletha, Polly, The Proverbial. Mommints...Wow, thanks for the words on Rick. It's a thrill to know I can inspire in such a small way. Ruse...LOL! You know what I mean. We're a pair of strung out, tired zombies sometimes. Thanks matey! A.J.Mackey... You know the plot! Well most of it, and still you bless me with such enormously kind reviews. The idea came from you after all.  
  
  
  
  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL  
  
by Marcher (gama39@austarmetro.com.au)  
  
PG13  
  
Chapter 4  
  
The arid outskirts of Cairo were only five blocks from the hospital, but the decline in atmosphere could have signalled the beginnings of another world. The graceful sandstone buildings gradually disintergrated into a shanty town of pawnbrokers and brothels scattered amid the heavily draped clotheslines which stretched between the walls of the alleys. Beggars and barefoot children mingled on the streets with thugs and Legionnaire's escaping the tedious rigours of duty.  
  
O'Connell surveyed his surroundings and accepted them as satisfactory. Any disturbance here would not draw the curiosity of a crowd, unlike the one which gathered outside the Fort after Jonathan's accident. Patience was all he needed to search out the face of the man he hunted. That, and fortune's grace.  
  
The sun was reaching it's peak and the thirst which irritated his throat could no longer be ignored. He pulled up a wicker stool at the next bar he came upon. In truth, this was an extremely loose description of a bar. It was a table and three stools outside the facade of a brothel which served rum on the street for it's clientele. His order for strong drink was filled directly and delivered by two eager girls clad in veils who couldn't have been more than sixteen. The first one sat on his lap, immediately enticing him inside while the second lolled over his shoulders. Rick winked at the imp which had perched herself seductively on his knee then lifted her to her feet, shaking his head. This induced a feigned sigh of disappointment from both girls and the one behind leaned further over his shoulders running her hands down his arms. He leaned forward gently to extricate himself and turned to face her, "Just waiting on some friends." he offered mildly and held up his shot glass for her to examine. The young harlot smiled knowingly at him and giggled as she stepped back, taking her companion by the arm to lead her back inside. They announced their expectations once his friends arrived which drew a patient smile from O'Connell. Their tittering continued as they disappeared through the door and he leaned back against the wall and reclaimed his view of the street.  
  
Time passed slowly and O'Connell was beginning to rethink his whole objective. His surveillance was fruitless and proving nothing more than a waste of time. He briefly considered barging into the camp, but being unarmed was too risky. As well, it was becoming more difficult to ward off his two over eager female companions without having them scream abuse at him. The last thing he needed was to draw attention.  
  
He sculled his third rum, threw his money onto the rickety table and expressed himself with a disappointed sigh. He raised his arms in a gesture of polite apology to the girls and walked back in the direction of the hospital. At the very least he'd be able to take Jonathan back home without needing to invent a cover up for his wife's sake. Besides, a touch of guilt ran through his blood at leaving Evelyn alone for so long without word of her brother.  
  
Two blocks into his journey he was rammed in the shoulder and knocked backwards by three Legionnaires barreling around a corner. Instinctively he grabbed the offender by the shoulder and forced his attention. On recognizing the accidental victim as his former Captain, the soldier nodded in apology and stepped back as O'Connell placed him from memory. It was Neil Waters. A Private in the Legion, a fellow patriot and generally well behaved, although he was somewhat easily led by the more boisterous members of the Regiment. Neither said a word, but it was apparent to Rick that the event of bumping into each other made the young Waters nervous. He held Rick's gaze a little too long and his eyes held a distinct look of consternation on seeing him. The former Captain stepped back and allowed the boy to pass, watching as he went and wondering. It wasn't long before Waters and his companions hastened their step from a walk to a run. Making their way across the street and into a pawnbrokers, which no doubt housed an illegal gaming room in the back, the trio made a hurried glance in his direction then entered, satisfied that their ex-commanding officer was gone. O'Connell stood unseen in the shadows of an adjacent doorway and waited.  
  
****  
  
Jonathan growled impatiently at an Orderly who apparently knew no English or who was simply ignoring him. The Englishman had stirred from his non compos state without any idea of where he was, or why. His leg ached considerably worse than when he had been bowled over by that idiot drunkard and the absence of his cast made him visciously suspicious of maltreatment. As well, his throat was drier than the Sahara itself.  
  
"Somebody!" He accompanied his irate shouting by slamming his hand ferociously on the drawers beside his bed. "Anybody!"  
  
His anguish laden cries were eventually answered with the arrival of stout, middle-aged man who, in Jonathan's opinion, wore the most irritating of smiles. But it was evident the man held some degree of authority, simply by the manner in which he ushered the Orderly from the room.  
  
"Who the bloody hell are you, and what am I doing here? And who's been fiddling with my leg?"  
  
Jonathan's visitor set himself down on the edge of the bed with a happy sigh and introduced himself. "Name's Campbell. Have been known t'do some doctorin'. Even saved a few lives here 'n' there. Including yours."  
  
Carnahan threw his head back into the pillow delivering an enormous groan at the ceiling. "God! You're a bloody Yorkshireman!"  
  
"Am at that!" Campbell responded with good humour in spite of Jonathan's derisive tone. "And lucky 't is that I befell into ya life, savin' ya from these halfwits, else ye be dead b'now."  
  
Jonathan took a moment to decipher what had been said. The lingo wasn't alien to him, but he had always hated the North of England with all it's stone fences, knee deep mud and icy winds. Plus, he found the locals over keen to prove their worth against the more subtle graces of the South. In short, he found Northeners to be unqualified crusaders who would be better suited sticking to their farms instead of showing off. It irked him being placed in a position where he owed thanks to one of them.  
  
"At least these halfwits had the sense to put my leg in a cast!" Jonathan wiggled his finger at his injured limb. "What possessed you to take it off? It hurts like Bealzebub himself spat on it!"  
  
Campbell lost his patience and squeezed Jonathan's ankle to prove a point, winning a sharp cry of pain from his ungrateful patient. "Cos it weren't broken t'begin with, ya fool of a man! You've only got a four inch gash t'ya shin, bruising and torn ligaments! They put the bleedin' cast on cos it looked good, is all. Pity they didn't pack the wound with plaster and given me somethin' to really have a gouge at!"  
  
Jonathan stared blindly at his leg for a moment, then resigned himself to gratitude. He waved his hand absently and mumbled, "Yes well, thanks and all that. Fine job. Very nice bandage. When can I go home?"  
  
"As soon as the Yank comes back t'get ya."  
  
"O'Connell brought me in!?" Jonathan sat up too quickly and yelped in pain, "Where is he now?"  
  
"On business of some sort. Wouldn't say really." Ross Campbell hoisted himself from the bed and made his way to leave, but not before delivering his parting shot at Carnahan. "Said somethin' along the lines o' leavin' ya in here the night."  
  
Jonathan folded his arms across his chest in a show of exasperation, "Well that sounds bloody right." He noticed the door closing, once again confining him to solitary, and shouted to Campbell's back, "Any chance of a meal? Preferably one that won't kill me!"  
  
****  
  
It was only a matter of minutes before the Pawnbroker's door groaned open and a party of Legionnaire's emerged into the harsh sunlight. There were at least seven of them which Rick could see, probably more still inside, but the face he was searching for appeared amongst them and O'Connell narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. However, without a gun, the odds seemed stacked against him, but passing up probably the only opportunity he would get was out of the question. He considered his only option was to watch and wait, if need be follow until the soldier was alone, or at least until the prospect of a confrontation leaned more to his favour.  
  
The Legionnaires were midly intoxicated and their voices carried clearly across to O'Connell. His fury heightened as they stood about laughing at their close call with their old Captain. His jaw clenched as it became obvious they all knew of this bastard's encounter with his wife and Rick's mind flashed with the horrors of what might have happened had Jonathan not been on his guard.  
  
The laughter died down as one by one the group dispersed. Each soldier casting a glance over the street before confidently deviating to their separate amusements. Rick's target ambled with a companion in the direction of Cairo's main thoroughfare, oblivious of his presence. Once they were a block ahead, O'Connell pulled himself from the darkened doorway and quickened his pace in pursuit.  
  
He caught up with them just a few hundred yards shy of the hospital and the American smiled grimly at the irony. There couldn't be a better place for this son of a bitch to take a beating. O'Connell stepped up behind the pair and laid a heavy, angry hand onto the Legionnaire's shoulder and spun him around to face him. "Remember me?!" He snarled through clenched teeth. Almost immediately, the other soldier lunged at O'Connell in defence of his friend only to be met by an angry shove to his chin sending him thudding to the ground, his head landing heavily of cobbled road. To Rick's surprise, the man remained down. Alcohol mixed with a sharp blow to the back of his head had rendered the soldier unconscious, leaving Evelyn's attacker to face her husband alone. Rick twisted his quarry around, pressing his face hard against a sandstone wall and wrenched his arm hard into the arch of his back. "Who are you?" he spat.  
  
The man grunted, unable to speak properly with his mouth grazing against the rough stone and he whined at the pain to the side of his face and his arm. There was no mercy in O'Connell's actions as he twisted the man's arm and shoved him harder into the wall. "Your name!"  
  
"Umph...Furbor..."  
  
Rick pushed harder and demanded again, "What!"  
  
The victim scraped his cheek along the wall and succeeded in twisting his head just enough to hiss his name through his teeth, "Furborough."  
  
The ex-Legionnaire turned the name over in his mind briefly before a recognition came. "Furborough! There's not very much to remember about you, is there?"  
  
"Who are you?" The private strained his head impossibly in an attempt to get a look at the man who held him.  
  
"I was your C.O. in Lybia for about a month before you went AWOL." Rick slightly released his grip on Furborough and pulled him about to face him, again shoving him into the sandstone. "Look closely." He held his face centimeters away and spoke through his teeth, "Any bells ringing yet?" The Private's eyes flashed with an acknowledgement which produced a viscious grin from his former captain. "Uh huh. That's right! I believe you've met my wife!"  
  
"She wasn't your wife!"  
  
In defence of Evelyn, O'Connell lied. "She was!" He shoved Furborough again, squeezing so hard on his throat as to choke him, "And she was pregnant!"  
  
Furborough snickered knowingly into the American's face. "She was slut and you'd shot through! What did you expect?"  
  
Rick released his grip, stepped back and delivered a solid right fist into Furborough's jaw sending the man sprawling to the footpath. He leaned down to drag him to his feet with the intention of repeating the act but was caught off guard by the Legionnaire kicking wildly at him before rolling out of the way. O'Connell muffled a groan when a boot connected with his thigh and he reached out wildly grabbing Furborough by the back of the shirt, spun him around, again connecting his fist with the man's jaw. The soldier was not as drunk as Rick first thought and was proving to be a fair match as he half rose lunging at Rick's waist, causing him to slam onto his back and delivered a right hook of his own.  
  
O'Connell spat the gravel from his mouth, his lip stinging from the blow. Raising his knee, he winded Furborough and punched him back onto the ground, his knuckles smeared with his opponent's blood. Pulling himself to his feet, the American reached down and dragged the man up only to knock him back down. This time he hissed with his own pain when his fist split open with the force of the impact. Furborough fumbled urgently with his pockets and Rick suspected he was reaching for a gun. He kicked at the soldier's hands repeatedly until he rolled onto his stomach and attempted to get up. Manhandling him to his feet, O'Connell threw Furborough face first into the wall and stepped back catching his breath. He wiped the corner of his mouth to remove the trickle of blood, momentarily taking his eyes off the Legionnaire. Furborough lurched himself away from the wall with an angry shout and fell at O'Connell. The burning which seered in his thigh caused the ex-Legionnaire to yell in pain. Furborough collapsed in a heap on the ground while O'Connell staggered sideways, finally bracing himself against the wall and stared down at the Bowie knife jutting out from his leg.  
  
His face contorted with the pain as he gasped for air. Panting, he looked over at Furborough who lay face down on the street, unmoving. Slowly, Rick guided himself down the wall to sit on the ground, all the while keeping both hands pressed firmly either side of the knife. Sweat dripped into his eyes and mouth and his chest heaved heavily through lack of oxygen while his mind attempted to control the agony in his leg. He looked around the street. The brawl had drawn scant attention and he noticed a few onlookers offer indifference and retreat back into their homes or shops. A trademark for this part of town and the very reason he had opted to come here. Taking a deep, sustaining breath, Rick placed both hands onto the knife handle and pulled. His teeth clenched while an agonizing groan rose from the base of his throat, gowing louder as he drew on the knife. The groan turned into a full, painful cry when he managed to pull the knife from his leg. Pressing both hands over the blood seeping wound, O'Connell rocked himself until the initial torture transformed itself into a burning ache. He squeezed his eyes open and shut, willing himself to remain conscious. He pressed the crown of his head into the wall and through slit eyes tried to judge the distance to the hospital. 


	5. Well Isn't That Just Like A Man?

CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL By Marcher gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG13  
  
Chapter 5  
  
"Somebody clean that up!" The roaring demand from Ross Campbell echoed through the hospital's corridor, mixed with an angry cry of pain after slipping and landing heavily on his side. Nobody had responded to his order by the time he had awkwardly found his feet and he shouted again. "Where's everyone in this wretched place?!" A lone employee poked his head around a corner, curious as to all the fuss, but wasn't quick enough to duck back out of sight before being spied by the irate doctor. "You there!" Campbell's jovial manner had receded in favour of distinct and precise orders. "Get a mop and bucket and clean this, quick smart!" The Orderly nodded obediently, once again disappearing from sight and Campbell set about spitting into his handkerchief then vigorously rubbing at the blood which had soaked into his trouser leg. A useless effort, for he only succeeded in smearing the stain further into the fabric. "Blast that O'Connell!" he cursed in a low voice. "Always know exactly the bugger's been!"  
  
****  
  
Evelyn slumped into the large, high backed armchair and gazed thoughtfully at her young son sleeping fitfully in the small bed opposite her. To offset the harsh afternoon sun, she had cloistered herself and Alex in the darkened bedroom beneath a modern electric ceiling fan, but it was to little or no good. The room still grew overly warm and stuffy. Her advanced pregnancy made it increasingly difficult to find a position that was remotely comfortable, especially now that the baby was delivering a series of strong kicks into her ribs and sides. She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax and ignore the steady hum from the fan that grated on her nerves.  
  
Her patience abruptly reached the end of it's tether and Evelyn groaned with a fierce irritation. It had been a good six hours since Jonathan was precariously stretched between Rick and that doctor friend of his to be carted off to hospital! She had even heard them laughing at the foot of the stairs, more concerned with memories of the old days than with her brother's state of health. "Bah!" She slapped the arms of the chair and hauled herself up, belly first! "He even had the nerve to diagnose me!"  
  
Alex roused slightly from the heat and the sound of his mother's sudden movement, making it almost impossible for Evelyn to stiffle a small cry of defeat. She made her way across the room and fussed over him, gently placing a damp cloth to his forehead and praying silently that he would remain asleep a while longer. The prospect of an irritated, over tired child in his heat was a little more than she could deal with right now. As she hushed the child and stroked his head with the cooling cloth, her mind jumped to conclusions of where her husband was, how much he was laughing and drinking, and the price he would pay on his return. Her frustration escalated at the same rate which Alex resisted her efforts to soothe him. She frowned with the thought that neither Rick, nor his friend had thought it necessary, or even good manners, to send news of Jonathan. When Alex howled his final refusal to remain in the bed, his mother released an exasperated cry of her own and plucked the child into her arms. "Come on, Alex." She swayed the child, patting his rump. "Let's find Daddy and see if he won't tell us where he's taken your uncle?" Her sarcasm was wasted on the boy, but it made Evelyn feel better!  
  
She placed her son onto the floor, her head spinning awfully when she straightened herself too quickly. Gasping at the sudden wave of dizziness, Evelyn reached a hand out to the wall and managed to stop herself from falling. Relying heavily on her support, she regained her balance and realized she was shaking from the fright. Her immediate response was to blame her near accident on those who had left her to frett and worry in this dreadful heat! Still standing, she placed a hand to her chest and inhaled deeply in order to calm herself. Once recovered, the extremely determined Mrs O'Connell dressed her son and made her way to meet up with her husband.  
  
****  
  
The piercing ache eventually broke through the tranquility of unconsciousness and Rick reluctantly opened his eyes, solely aware of the throbbing pain in his right thigh. He could remember dragging himself through the dust to collapse inside the hospital doors, but his recollection of what followed was hazy and fragmented.  
  
He gingerly attempted to stretch his leg and angrily cursed the bolt of pain which should have served as a warning against any further effort. Still, gritting his teeth, he placed both hands around his knee and raised his leg into an arch, once again swearing violently against the excrutiating exercise. He stuffed a pillow beneath his knee and began peeling away the bandage to examine the damage.  
  
Casting the dressing aside, the ex-Legionnaire stared curiously at the wound. Seven neat, black stitches presented themselves amid a circular patch of cleaned skin, itself surrounded by brown, dried blood. He carefully moved his hand to the underside of his thigh, checking for an exit wound, becoming somewhat grateful of the negative. Placing a grip on his knee once more, he held his breath and dropped his leg over the side of the bed. Using the iron bedhead as a bolster, Rick placed his entire weight onto his good leg, before softly pressing the ball of his right foot onto the floor. The pain was quick and sharp, but not enough to deter him. There was no way of telling how long he had been unconscious; and if Furborough wasn't dead, or even if he was, O'Connell knew he couldn't afford to hang around convalescing in a hospital ward. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out how to follow a trail of blood!  
  
He grabbed his trousers from the back of the single chair crammed beneath the window, barely noticing their ripped and bloodstained state, and proceed to put them on. The pain surged to mock his strained efforts and O'Connell closed his eyes and sighed at the dark prospect of pulling on his boots!  
  
With the ordeal completed, he shuffled himself along the bed, then lunged towards the wall. Taking a moment to steel himself, Rick pulled open the door and began what was only going to be a long arduous journey to the front steps of the hospital. If he allowed himself to think any further than that right now, he might well re- consider the whole escape.  
  
Half way down the corridor he was ordered back to his room by an angry doctor speaking fluent Arabic. Ignoring him, the American persisted on his way. The smaller man blocked his path, again insiting the wayward patient get himself back to bed. Nevertheless, O'Connell refused once more.  
  
Bristling, the medic announced, "Would you understand better if I speak English?"  
  
"No, I got it the first time!" he sneered, "I'm just not gonna do it!"  
  
"Then you are a fool. Your wound will open."  
  
"I'll be fine!" And with that, O'Connell pushed his way past.  
  
"The man's right, ya know!" Rick leaned his back against the wall and looked down the length of the corridor to see Ross strolling towards him. "Ya be in worse a state than ya opponents after we dragged 'em in off the street. At least they weren't bleeding all over the floor." Campbell nodded to his fellow doctor, indicating that he would handle the errant patient and the man happily took his leave.  
  
"I see that ya idea of delicate business hasn't changed much over the years."  
  
Rick snorted at the intended gest, but refused to be lured back. "You pulled that bastard in off the street?"  
  
"Oh aye. One of 'em woke up and left in one piece soon enough. Other one hasn't come 'round as yet." Campbell stood with his hands plunged deeply into his pockets, looking his friend up and down, half smiling at his sorry state. "If it's yourself that's responsible for 'is condition, ya might be pleased to know ya broke 'is nose and sent 'im comatose for the last four hours."  
  
"The other one's gone?"  
  
"Aye." Campbell knit his eyebrows, taking note of the disturbing effect this news had on O'Connell. "Which sort of trouble 'ave ya stirred up now?"  
  
"None. Take me home, Ross." There was a degree of seriousness in the American's voice which Campbell could only ever recall hearing once or twice, but the look he offered his friend revealed an unwillingness to discharge him. Exasperated by the series of events since he went searching for Furborough, Rick resorted to pleading, "Look! I'm stitched and fixed. There's nothing I can do here that I can't do at home." A silent pause followed his request. This time he held Campbell's gaze with an intense urgency that left nothing to be questioned. "If one of them's already left, then I don't have any other choice."  
  
The Yorkshireman simply nodded and lent an arm to support O'Connell, pacing him slowly as they made their way out. "That little wife of yours?"  
  
"Yeah? What about her?"  
  
"Placid, is she?"  
  
Rick laughed, "No!"  
  
"Then I'd say that's unlucky for you."  
  
Whatever Evelyn had to say to him, didn't bear thinking about right now. "Yeah. You can say that again!"  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: My apologies for this rather short installment, but the festive seasons looms and from now my time will be commanded by greater forces. This chapter didn't flow so easily for me and took longer than anticipated, which is also why it's so short. But having it done gives me an clear run on whatever turn this story takes next.  
  
Thankyou all, Princess ZeldaBelle, Eviefan, MBooker, Ruse, Marxbros, A.J.Mackey and to anyone who may just pop into read. Merry Christmas to you all, and may you all make it safe and well into 2003! Maureen. 


	6. Everybody Wants A Damn Answer!

CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL  
  
by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
  
  
PG13  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Rick sat silently in the back seat of Ross's Daimler, his injured leg stretched out across the leather upholstery, watching the community of Cairo's marketplace as his friend steered the vehicle towards Fort Brydon. One by one, the traders were closing up shops and stalls in the red glow of sundown while a few straggling shoppers were rushing about in an effort to beat closing time. It amused him to see that, as usual, most of the disgruntled customers rattling the handles of locked doors were Europeans. Even after almost a quarter of a century, the foreigners still hadn't managed to grasp the basics of this country. Most were tourists, but others were residents making a living in the city and the majority of those had found it unnecessary to learn the language, insisting instead that the locals speak either French or English. They would be forever outsiders but sadly, he knew they would prevail, and little by little Cairo would have it's identity chipped away in the name of progess.  
  
With the onset of evening and the cooling temperature, Rick frowned uneasily over the thought of how much time had passed since he and Ross and left to take Jonathan to the hospital. In all that time no word had been sent to Evelyn and the prospect of facing her now wasn't appealing. She was going to be furious! Even more so when he presented himself in this state! Of course, that is if she was still at home. Knowing Evelyn, she could have gone anywhere on a whim, even taken it upon herself to go looking for him and Jonathan out of frustration; and that meant she was walking the hot streets with Alex in tow. The fact that Furborough's buddy was on the loose worried him even more. Rick could only hope that whoever the guy was, he didn't recognize him and make the connection to Evelyn. To compound matters, the thought of Neil Waters crossed his mind. This was the man who could fit the pieces together, thus putting his wife in very real danger. The American closed his eyes, hanging his head over a series of events that were fast turning into a disaster. His mind was racing with every possibility and he didn't hear Ross call him until the man raised his voice in a shout to gain his attention.  
  
"What?" Rick lifted his gaze to his old friend and apologized. "Sorry. I was just thinking about..." His voice trailed off while he scanned the sidewalk for the possibility of seeing Evelyn and Alex making their way along.  
  
"About how ya plan on explaining all this to the missus, I'd say."  
  
Rick half smiled, "Yeah, something like that."  
  
"Well, let's see. She sends 'er lame brother off with 'er husband 'n' his mate, then instead of getting 'er brother back mended, she gets 'er husband back as a cripple as well!" Ross thought briefly before adding in a more serious tone. "Ya know what? I wouldn't be surprised if in all likelihood, she blames ME for this."  
  
This time O'Connell laughed, "Better you than me." Then he realized, "Where is Jonathan, anyway?"  
  
"Still at the Infirmary. None too happy about it either, I might add! He's well enough to be out."  
  
A stammered request began working it's way from deep within the American's throat, drawing a groan from the doctor. "Yes, yes. But he can stay there til tomorrow. I'm not making another trip today."  
  
Rick acknowledged the favour with thanks, setting his thoughts back to his wife.  
  
Campbell brought the car to a stop outside the Fort and looked over the seat to the ex-Legionnaire. "What are you doin' with a wife anyway? With a boy, no less...and another arrivin'?"  
  
"It's a long story." Rick grunted with the effort of moving his leg so he could slide out of the car. "One you probably wouldn't believe no matter how I told it."  
  
"Aye. That much I can believe!"  
  
"What are you doing back in Egypt? Last I heard, you were on your way back to England, swearing never to return."  
  
The Yorkshireman sighed heavily. "I did. I did." He slowly shook his head. "Funny, hey. I cursed the years here and the heat, but when it came down to brass tacks I just couldn't stand the cold back home. Hehe, old habits." Still half turned to the back of the car, his arm resting on the driver's seat, Ross persisted with his previous enquiry in the fatherly tone he was prone to using on the younger man. "Are ya good to 'er? None o'this messing around like when I knew ya in the Legion?"  
  
After years apart, O'Connell was beginning to comfortably re-aquaint himself with his old friend and his brow furrowed slightly with a feigned look of offence. "You always did think you were more than just a doctor to me!"  
  
"Are ya behavin' yaself!?" Campbell scolded him. "I've seen men such as yaself marry a lass with a shotgun pressed in between ya shoulder blades, then scarper first chance ya get! Now here ya are, runnin' off on cloak 'n' dagger business while the little woman's got 'er back turned." Ross pointed a stern finger at his reluctant patient and warned, "I just don't like seein' these young girls left high and dry by soldiers such as yaself."  
  
Rick found his own temper and retorted as severely, "Just because you can't break old habits, doesn't mean the rest of can't! Now will you just give me a hand getting out!"  
  
"Are ya in with this lass only cos ya have t'be?"  
  
"You're just not gonna let this drop, are you?" It had been at least six years since Rick had been lectured by Dr.Campbell, but the old feeling came flooding back as if it had been only yesterday when he was being berated by the fatherly medic for rather abysmal behaviour regarding a girl in Damascus. However, the serious look in his friend's eyes left Rick with no option but to answer and get the man off his back. "I'm in it because I want to be...and believe me, she's more trouble than I ever was!"  
  
"Good! Serves ya right!" Satisfied with the answer, Ross lifted his mood, "Now, inside with ya and put 'er mind to rest over this business with 'er brother."  
  
The older man assisted the younger one as he limped his way to the door of his quarters. It was there Rick offered his thanks, bidding Ross a goodnight. "It's quiet. She's probably sleeping. Could be best if you don't come in."  
  
"Fine by me." Campbell stepped away as Rick unlocked the door. "Let me know if she gives ya a wallop for all ya mischief today...I'll come 'n' lend a hand!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah!" O'Connell waved a hand behind him and went inside.  
  
~~~  
  
The only light to welcome him was the dim glow from the bedside lamp in the next room and he ran a hand through his hair with a thoughtful sough. The fact that the sitting room had been left in darkness was a sure sign he was in trouble. No sound acknowledged his arrival and he guessed, or rather hoped, that Evelyn was asleep. It was unlikely though, at this early hour of the evening. Still, nightfall hadn't totally consumed the sky and he was able to hobble his way across the room without the need to switch on a light. She wasn't in the bedroom either, but the light lining the crack beneath the bathroom door revealed her whereabouts.  
  
Alex slept soundly in his tiny bed pressed up against the wall, once again bringing Rick's attention to the confined area of their living arrangements and it seemed to be getting smaller by the day. Evelyn couldn't manage to shake the thrifty lifestyle she had been forced to lead while aspiring to advance her career in a foreign land. The fact that she practically supported Jonathan as well just reinforced the pattern. She viewed their sudden wealth as a type of backstop or nestegg if things got bad in the future. He smiled at her tender victory in being unmoveable on the subject no matter how hard he tried to explain that things would need to get pretty disasterous for them to lose their fortune. Perhaps it was time he tried again...but not tonight.  
  
Making his way as quietly as possible to the bathroom door he gently turned the handle, happy to discover that it wasn't locked. The door opened onto the head of the bath and he only caught a glimpse of her toes poking through the bubbles before Evelyn curtly announced that she was, in fact, taking a bath....and a peaceful one at that! She went on to complain of Alex's ill mood during the day's heat and Rick conceded the point that he wasn't exactly welcome in the temporary sanctuary she'd made for herself. "It's okay. Take your time." He backed out and closed the door, not having seen her face. All told, that wasn't necessary to convey her mood.  
  
Leaving her to stew in her anger, he took the opportunity to change his pants. It was a repeated ordeal of the struggle to dress himself in the hospital and his grunting and murmured cursing eventually caused Alex to stir unhappily in a half awakened state. He successfully buttoned his trousers, then limped over to his son and tried to settle him back to sleep. The boy tossed briefly and Rick crouched down, catching hold of his tiny hand and hushed him. His sons eyes slit open, then closed as quickly when his father ran a soothing hand over his hair. The child sucked in two gulps of air and became still. Rick moved to stand but stopped when his eyes fell onto his son's fingers wrapped tightly about his thumb, holding onto him for reassurance. He attempted to gently pull his hand from Alex's grip only to have the child squeeze harder, unwilling to release the security of his father's presence. The ex-Legionnaire, street-wise and shrewd, stared at the small unblemished hand and a strange ache attacked his heart as he compared Alex's hand to his own bloodied and calloused one. The undressed wound across his knuckles where he sent Furborough face first into the stone wall had obviously been considered too small for treatment in relation to his leg. Dry blood caked the gash and smeared over the back of his hand and between his fingers. It was a stark comparision of innocence and a life scarred with struggle and contention. He remembered the night the boy was born and the mixed emotions of joy and outright fear at having the responsibility of a life which was completely dependant on him and Evelyn; and how he could have so easily lost that life months earlier as a repercussion of his lifestyle. Rick smiled solemnly at his Alex before easing his hand out of his grasp, this time successfully. On relinquishing his hold on his father, the boy rolled onto his side and remained asleep. Rick swore then and there that he would kill Furborough if he ever saw the son-of-a-bitch again!  
  
He steadied himself against the wall raising his injured hand for inspection, turning it this way and back in the dim light, clenching it into a fist and smarting from the sting. Running the same hand over the back of his neck he felt an urgent need to be clean. Looking over at the bathroom door he decided to enter no matter what sort of mood Evelyn was in. A hopeful thought crossed his mind that she might even take a little pity on his condition and even allow him to slide into the tub with her.  
  
~~~  
  
Evelyn lay stretched out in the tub, the anger pounding in her chest refusing to allow the rest of her body to relax in the warmth of the water. When the door creaked open again, she laid the flannel over her face and sank her shoulders beneath the bubbles, once again announcing her desire to be left alone. "I said before that I wanted some peace and quiet! Now, if you wouldn't mind!" Her husband's silence only gave rise to her fury and the sound of his footsteps signalling his decline to her request for solitude was the final straw. "Rick! Whatever half baked excuse you have to tell me can wait until I'm finished!"  
  
Rick sustained himself against the wall and made his way to the basin without looking at her. The plumbing rattled in the walls when he turned the tap and Evelyn reacted with a shout, "Do you mind!!"  
  
"Yeah, I do! And keep your voice down in case you wake Alex." He splashed the water over his face and neck, the gash on his hand stinging on contact with the water.  
  
"Ooooh! You're a fine one to talk about not wanting him to wake!" Evelyn threw the flannel at him, leaving a sodden patch of shirt on the back of his shoulder. "He's been grizzling all day! Not completely tolerable in this heat, let me tell you! Not to mention the fact that you've been gone the entire day! You can't tell me it's taken all this time for someone to decide on what's wrong with Jonathan." Rick picked up the dripping piece of cloth and wrung it over the basin, not completely listening to her rampage. He got the basics of what she was saying. He was more concerned with trying to think of something to tell her that would carry some weight. "You just can't drag me from my place of employment, plonk me in the bedroom and tell me to sit and then run off all over town without the common decency to tell me where you are!"  
  
Still leaning against the basin, Rick wiped a hand over his face then allowed the remaining moisture to drip from his skin. For sure, she had a right to be angry and he was well aware that giving her the full story wasn't going to lessen his sentence any. "I'm sorry, Honey." His calm response only seemed to aggrivate her more. "Jonathan's fine. Ross is gonna drive him home tomorrow."  
  
"Ross! Ha!"  
  
Ignoring her indignant huff, Rick persevered. "Some things came up that I had to see to."  
  
"Things like what, may I ask?"  
  
"Just things." Rick turned around and leaned himself against the basin. At first he scowled at the sight of her, then smiled knowingly. "You haven't been sitting around here all day. Just look at you!"  
  
Remembering the condition of her face, Evelyn pressed her fingers to her cheeks and stammered slightly before answering. "It's nothing. The water must be too hot."  
  
"Too hot, my ass! You're sunburned. Your arms as well."  
  
"Yes, well. Be that as it may, it still doesn't tell me what took you so long."  
  
"Why didn't you get a Taxi to come looking for me?' He was grinning broadly now, which only served to madden her even more.  
  
"Infuriating man!" Evelyn splashed her fists into the water. "I decided it was too much of an effort anyway and turned around and came home!" Using her elbows as leverage, she heaved herself out of the tub. Rick leaned forward to assist but she slapped his hand away. "I can manage perfectly well, thank you." He pulled back, giving in to her obstinate trait. Her belly, now swollen with seven months of pregnancy, made it obviously difficult for her to move as quickly as she wished under the circumstances and Rick winced at being forced to watch her struggle.  
  
Too suddenly, she fell sideways gasping with fright and Rick lurched forward, catching her before she fell! The quick, instinctive response to reach out and break her fall combined with her sudden weight sent a bolt of pain through his leg. It was all he could do to keep the both of them from crashing to the tiled floor! His face twisted in pain as he steadied her, pressing her head into his chest while catching his breath. Keeping one hand about her back he cupped her face with other bringing her to look at him and whispered uneasily, "You alright?"  
  
Evelyn looked at him and considered lying, however she felt positively awful and knew it was useless in trying to hide the fact. "No." she breathed, "No, I'm not."  
  
She found her feet and supported herself, awkwardly at first but soon found her balance. Rick reached over her shoulder grabbing the robe which hung from the back of door and held it open above her shoulders allowing her to slide her arms into the sleeves. Wrapping an arm around her waist he guided her through the bathroom door and onto the bed.  
  
~~~  
  
Furborough grunted as his eyes flickered open. His head pounded as if a marching band was keeping time within his skull and when he coughed to rid himself of the repulsive sensation of blood that had collected at the back of his throat, he clasped his hands to either side of his head in the vain hope of lessening the thud of his brain. It was hopeless! The agony continued as he shifted himself with consternation. He groaned loudly at the effort, wrapping his arms about his bruised ribs, all the while seriously believing his head would explode! Once upright, the Legionnaire gingerly touched a hand to his face pulling it away directly as he made contact with the tip of his nose. He sat with his legs hanging over the side of the bed spitting blood into a towel while struggling to breathe through his mouth.  
  
He remembered everything!  
  
His anger seethed as he replayed the events in his mind over and over. He would not back down over this! He laughed hatefully at the attempt to punish him, then cursed violently at the immediate pain that assulted his senses over the sudden movement.  
  
He studying the blood spattered towel before him and considered O'Connell's fate. Finding him would prove no trouble and time was on his side. The Regiment was on extended leave and wouldn't be moving out for another eight weeks. This fact satisfied him well. "Let that bastard O'Connell believe he's won!" Furborough choked and spat into the towel once more. "I've got all the time I need!"  
  
~~~  
  
Evelyn laid on the bed propped up against the pillows attempting to stave off the ill feeling by breathing slow and deeply, just as she'd be ordered by Rick. She kept her eyes closed in a bid to conceal the fear she felt ever increasingly since these mysterious spells began over a month ago. She could hear Rick fussing in the bathroom. After securing her position on the bed, he had mentioned something about needing to cool her down. No doubt he was bound to return with a cold compress of sorts. It seemed he was taking ages and it sounded as though he was stumbling.  
  
She heard him re-enter the bedroom and opened one eye to watch him. She opened both on seeing him grab hold of the bedpost to aid himself along. "You're limping!"  
  
"Yeah, sshh! And you're yelling"  
  
With difficulty, Rick steered himself onto the bed beside her and placed a cold damp cloth to her head. "Walking around in the heat in your condition isn't something most people would recommend, you know."  
  
She struggled against the compress intent on rebuking that remark but wasn't able to withstand the gentle pressure he placed on her shoulder to keep her still.  
  
"What were you doing? And how come Alex isn't burned like you?"  
  
"He was in the pram." She muttered under her breath.  
  
Rick groaned and caught his temper before speaking. "You were pushing the pram around! Who got it up and down the stairs? Or don't I need to ask?"  
  
Evelyn shoved his hand away from her forehead and glared at her husband. "I'm too tired to be drawn into that arguement tonight other than to say that you should have let me know what was going on."  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes, then considered that she had a point. "Yeah, okay." He replaced the compress on her head and warned, "But you're only getting away with that one until later."  
  
"Why are you limping?" At any other time this question would carry a definate tone of concern, but right now it smacked of intolerance. "And don't tell me it's nothing." Her eyes met his, imparting a serious mien. "Something happened today that I insist on knowing. I want none of that embellished story telling that you gave me before you went away to Syria."  
  
He remained silent, his brow furrowed slightly and considered his answer. A mistake as it turned out for Evelyn was in no mood for patience. She squeezed his leg, pressing just below the wound causing him to grab hold of her arm preventing any further attack. "Dammit, Evie!" He rolled onto his back, gritting his teeth against the pain and several colourful exclamations!  
  
Alex woke with a cry and his mother shuffled herself off the bed to tend to him.  
  
Rick gasped through clenched teeth. "Careful how you walk!"  
  
"At least I'm able to walk."  
  
~~~  
  
Furborough picked up his uniform jacket, slung it over his shoulder and made his way to the door. As an after thought, he turned back and grabbed the towel he had been using to press to his mouth then resumed his departure.  
  
Half way along the corridor he stopped outside the door of a particular patient who had been irritating him since he woke up. Banging heavily on the door of the man who had been continually complaining aloud for the benefit of the entire floor, Furborough shouted through the pain in his head to the patient beyond the door. "Shut up before I come in and shoot ya! Ya noisy bastard!" Immediate silence ensued and Furborough continued on his way.  
  
~~~  
  
In the time since Alex had returned to sleep, the O'Connell's had laid in uneasy silence. The Legionnaires he had confronted today still weighed heavily on Rick's mind. At least one of them was back on the street already and as for Furborough, well he only suffered a broken nose and concussion from what he knew. If he'd been armed, Rick was certain he would have shot the unprincipled scumbag. As it stood now, he'd made matters worse!  
  
As Evelyn shifted uncomfortably against her pillows, he rolled his head to look at her and spoke in a calm whisper. "You know, coming to get you from the Museum and what happened today are pretty much the same thing."  
  
"Well, Dear!" Her tone was hushed but less peaceful. "That's difficult for me to discern. You see, I have no idea what happened today other than to see the results on you!"  
  
Ignoring her manner, Rick persisted. "Bringing you home...angry as you were...was keeping you safe." He wasn't sure if her complete silence was a good thing or not, but at least he knew he had her attention. "It's not like it was when you were having Alex. It just seems harder for you this time." He placed a hand on the baby, gently moving his hand in a circular motion. Evelyn relaxed a little against the pillows and her small smile encouraged him "I wanted you here where I'd knew you'd be okay if anything went wrong, that's all."  
  
"I suppose I can understand your reasoning...oafish as your actions appeared at the time."  
  
Rick was forced to concede her point and that barging into the Museum in a temper that fell just short of firing his guns at the ceiling probably wasn't the best way to handle the matter. At any rate, Evelyn was giggling quietly beside him now. Even in the half light he could see her faintness had passed, lifting the burden of one problem for the time being.  
  
She raised a hand over his leg, placing it lightly on the spot where she had pinched him earlier. "Tell me what happened to you today."  
  
Removing her hand from his leg, he brought it up to his chest and squeezed her fingers.  
  
"I'm sorry. Is it too sore to touch?"  
  
"No. Well, yes...but it's more to stop you from hitting me again."  
  
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "What have you done?!"  
  
He inhaled and sighed heavily. "I met up with Furborough today."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Furborough. The man who broke in here. The one you saw across the street yesterday."  
  
Her face opened up when she grasped his meaning. It was hard to read her expression or guess what she would say. To compound the situation, her voice remained neutral when she finally did speak. "You met him, or you hunted him out?" Rick's uncomfortable silence prompted her to try and jerk her hand out of his but he held tighter, refusing to let go as her anger began to rise, all the while holding his eyes to hers.  
  
"You didn't really believe that I'd just let him go after you pointed him out, did you? After what he did?"  
  
She relaxed her hand and it appeared she was forcing back tears. "No, I suppose not."  
  
Letting go of her hand, he slipped his fingers around the knape of her neck, pulling her into his kiss. "You're my wife, Evie. I'll kill anyone who hurts you."  
  
Alarmed, she moved her face back far enough to see him. "You didn't kill him?!"  
  
"No." He laughed, secretly wishing that he had. "But he got the message."  
  
"And just how injured are you?" She asked refering to his leg.  
  
"He pulled a knife."  
  
"Stabbed!!"  
  
"Yeah. But I'm walking and breathing."  
  
"But I squeezed the wound!" Her hand covered her mouth then darted down towards his injured leg and back again. "Oh God, Rick! I'm sorry!"  
  
Catching hold of her flailing hand, he pulled her back into his chest. "It's alright, Evie! I'm fine. I've faced tougher than you. Not by much, though."  
  
  
  
  
  
end chapter.  
  
AJMackey, MBooker, Ruse and Eviefan....thank you ladies. I thought the previous chapter was kind of average to tell the truth and it was a nice Christmas present to see that you all enjoyed it. Thankyou! :) 


	7. Faultless Misfortune

CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL  
  
by Marcher (gama39@austarmetro.com.au)  
  
PG13  
  
  
  
Chapter 7 ~ Faultless Misfortune  
  
  
  
Furborough shuffled his way into the Legion's camp with the sole intent of heading directly to his tent. The walk from the hospital was an ardous one and the rise in his body temperature had resulted in a continuation of the heavy bleeding from his nose. With his head tilted skyward, each step was blind and excruciating. He held the blood soaked towel to his face, applying minimal pressure to avoid more pain than necessary, while his free hand wrapped firmly across his bruised ribs.  
  
As he awkwardly pursued his path, a handful of Legionnaire's hedged his way but made little effort to hide their amusement. However when Furborough tripped over a tent peg landing flat on his chest, the snickering from his comrades became a raucous, collective guffaw. The arm which had carefully rested against his face hit the ground elbow first, delivering a severe blow to his already broken feature. The soldier rolled onto his back clamoring with pain while clutching both hands to the towel, as if applying pressure to his injury would somehow contain the throbbing in his head! The jeering continued at his expense, although he was aware that one jocular voice in particular was becoming louder, approaching slowly until it stopped directly above him. Furborough narrowly opened his watering eyes and squinted against the setting sun until the silhouetted body stood between him and the red glow. Still laughing heartily, Neil Waters extended a helping hand and lifted his friend to his feet. For a moment, pride prevented the injured man from accepting any further assistance from the young Private and he took several unassisted, staggering steps, almost falling again save for Waters' quick response in steadying him. Furborough muttered his gratitude, begrudgingly allowing the lad to guide him the remainder of the way.  
  
"Bar fight?" Neil Waters perched himself on the opposite cot to Furborough's, handing him a bowl of water and a clean towel.  
  
The Legionnaire discarded his stained cloth in favour of the fresh one, dunking it into the bowl and squeezing the excess from it. Just before placing the cool towel to his face, Furborough fixed an angry glare on Waters, answering in an insinuating tone, "No!" then briefly sighed at the ease brought by the moisture against his face. Laying himself back onto the cot, he lifted the towel and studied it before addressing his companion in accusation. "It was O'Connell!" Waters' spread his arms in innocence as Furborough continued with suspicion, "If I find out you told him I was back in Cairo, I swear..."  
  
"I didnt' say a word to him! Ask the others!"  
  
"Yeah." Furborough looked into the young man's face, unable to read his expression through bloodshot eyes. "If you're lying to me, you'll pay on both counts!"  
  
"No! I swear!"  
  
"Well, he jumped me after we left the poker table yesterday. The prat won't get very far though...Arrgh!" he laughed, unintentionally causing his face to ache again "Left my calling card with him. With any luck, he's in more pain than me right now!"  
  
~~~  
  
The first rays of the morning sun were beginning to frame the drapes of her bedroom window, but Evelyn had been awake for hours. Or so it seemed. She hadn't bothered to look at the side-table clock since awaking in darkness with the most peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was no pain to speak of and she couldn't even say she felt unwell, just peculiar. Each time she raised her head from the pillow the feeling of faintness returned, so she just lay there quietly. Wondering.  
  
Rick snored contentedly beside her and she didn't have the heart to wake him. The pangs of guilt for when she pinched his stab wound still haunted her and in all honesty, Evelyn felt quite silly waking him just to say she felt a little offish, especially as she knew full well the best remedy was exactly what she was doing...lying still and quiet.  
  
Alex began to shuffle beneath his sheets. However reluctant Evelyn was to disturb her sleeping husband, this event signalled the tranquility was about to be shattered anyway.  
  
~~~  
  
Ross Campbell shut the front passenger door of his car and proceeded to walk around to the driver's side, grateful for the few seconds of relief from Carnahan's endless moaning. He wondered if his sister was of the same disposition, but dismissed the thought immediately. Knowing O'Connell as he did, he knew the man wouldn't saddle himself with a nagging wife. As he slid behind the driver's wheel, he threw a scornful look at his fellow Englishman and Jonathan instantly ceased his ramblings. "That's much better." Campbell smiled through his teeth. "It's a luvly mornin', so why don't we just enjoy the ride."  
  
~~~  
  
"No, no darling!" Evelyn reached forward to prevent Alex from jumping onto his father, but failed. The toddler landed his full weight onto Rick's stomach bringing him abruptly awake. Rick groaned with the impact, instinctively catching the child in mid air before he brought his knees down on him once more.  
  
Slightly winded, he layed Alex down next to him and held him firmly in an effort to calm him. "Not the best way to wake your old man, you know." Evelyn was giggling and he looked at her with still blurred vision, "Yeah, ha ha. I notice he's not jumping on you."  
  
"I'm sorry." She offered, still laughing. "I did try." Taking her son's hand as she sat, Evelyn coaxed him to follow her. "Come on, Mummy will get you breakfast." To her dismay, her head began to spin as quickly as she put weight onto her feet and she collapsed back onto the bed.  
  
"Hey, hey." Rick whispered, lifting her chin to look at her. "Dizzy again?"  
  
Evelyn nodded, "But I'll be alright in a minute, I just need to get my balance."  
  
"Like hell! Stay where you are! Ross is bringing Jonathan back this morning and he can check you over while he's here."  
  
"Oh Rick! There's really no need! It's just me being all out of sorts with the baby, that's all. There's nothing he can do." Her protest stopped short when she tried again to get up and felt the illness flush over her.  
  
"Yeah, it looks like it to" Sometimes she really hated that 'know all' tone his voice could adopt, but right now she couldn't bring herself to argue with him. She pulled her legs up onto the bed while he held the covers back for her and she relaxed into the pillows. Her comfort was short lived however, and she jerked her head up on hearing her husband's exclamation, "What's wrong with your feet!"  
  
Looking down at her swollen ankles, Evelyn indeed had to wonder herself. Be that as it may, Rick was making enough fuss for the both of them and she simply brushed his concern aside, "Oh nothing. It's normal for my ankles to swell a little. Especially considering I'm so far along."  
  
"A little! They look like camel's knees!"  
  
Agast, Evelyn withdrew her feet from Rick's hands and scolded him. "Don't be rude!" Then decided to sport with him. "Neither should you speak disrepectfully of devout souls."  
  
Really, Rick should have known better, but it was against his nature not to react. "What?"  
  
"Old Camel Knees." Evelyn perked, lifting herself upright against the bedhead. "Some just call him James The Just, but either way, he was an extremely pious man. Spent a good part of his life praying, hence his nickname. His knees became swollen and calloused..."  
  
"Okay, I get the picture! Wouldn't really say that applies to you, though." He dropped the covers over her legs and pulled himself out of the bed. "I'll see to Alex, you stay there."  
  
Evelyn lay back against the pillows watching her son scramble after his hobbling father, wondering how on earth Rick was going to manage the morning routine. She didn't have to wait long for her answer. Within minutes Rick poked his head around the bedroom door and inquired sheepishly. "What does he eat again?"  
  
She couldn't help resuming her teasing. "Honestly, you call yourself his father! You really need to pay more attention, you know."  
  
Rick curled one side of his mouth, ignoring her game. "So, you gonna tell me?"  
  
"You really don't know, do you?"  
  
He pushed the door open fully, leaned himself against the frame and sighed heavily. "Look, I know how to build you a proper shelter in a sand storm! I know how to set the points on your brother's car! Hell, I even know that 380 and .38 caliber ammunition is often interchangeable in center fire handguns! But I have absolutely no idea what goes into that goo you dish up for Alex every morning!"  
  
She stared momentarily, eyes wide. "Toast will be fine." Rick pulled the door over and retreated with what she could only describe as a smug look of satisfaction and she couldn't resist calling behind him, "For me as well!"  
  
~~~  
  
On hearing her son's excited squeals from the next room, Evelyn could happily assume that Jonathan had arrived home at last. She placed her tray on the bed beside her, quietly dreading when Rick would no doubt lead Dr. Campbell in for what was going to be a thorough examination. She was hard pressed to accept the fuss that Rick was making over all this, but decided it would probably be for the best if she went along with it, and hoped it would put his mind to rest. At least this way she would be able to get on with the normal day-to-day of her life.  
  
~~~  
  
Rick glanced at his watch, uneasy about the time it was taking Ross to come up with a diagnosis on his wife. He and Jonathan had been talking for close on an hour without any news from the other room, but at least it afforded Rick the time to answer his brother- in-law's questions on why he was 'left to rot' as Jonathan put it; and fill him in on his encounter with Furborough.  
  
"We're certainly going to be a fine pair if Evie needs any urgent attention, aren't we?" Jonathan leaned back, exhaling heavily as he gripped the arms-ends of his chair, nodding his head towards Rick's leg. "Lucky for you his aim wasn't a tad higher."  
  
"Hmph!" O'Connell gingerly stretched his injured leg, grimacing slightly then allowing it to relax. "Keep it under your hat, alright? Evie thinks the whole thing is over." Jonathan questioned him with a look. "I haven't told her this guy's out roaming the streets and probably looking to settle the score."  
  
"Ah, I see. I know the type...probably a little too well, I'm afraid."  
  
As Jonathan finished speaking, the bedroom door clicked open revealing the stout frame of Dr.Campbell. Rick immediately moved to rise from his chair and his old friend waved a hand at him to remain seated. "Stay where ya are, Yank!" He pulled the door behind him and made his way to join Rick and Jonathan. "The last thing anyone needs is you fallin' flat on ya face again!"  
  
Jonathan pointed at Rick and laughed, completely unperturbed by the American's unamused smirk,  
  
"Yeah, whatever." O'Connell raised his eyes to Ross, ignoring Jonathan's enjoyment at such a revelation. "How is she?"  
  
The doctor dragged a chair closer and seated himself next to Rick, whose eyes darkened on witnessing such a serious expression on the Yorkshireman's face. "She's not well, O'Connell. Ever heard of a thing called Toxemia?"  
  
Rick shook his head and Jonathan spoke, leaning forward, "Yes, I have! Don't know exactly what it is, mind you. But I've heard women brandishing that word about where babies are concerned."  
  
Campbell raised a hand to hush Evelyn's brother and continued earnestly. "Swollen ankles. High blood pressure. That's why she's been fainting. Baby's not getting all it needs and there's a damn high risk it will be born early and underweight. Bad thing all round, that's f'sure." Rick sat, staring. Unsure of saying anything. He shot a glance at Jonathan who responded as equally dismayed. "Oh, it gets worse!" Campbell continued, in his usual blunt manner. "She's confined to bed from this moment to keep her the blood pressure under control." He eyed the American directly and repeated himself. "From this moment, O'Connell! This is a nasty business and there's not a helluva lot we can do about it. If she's up and about she could go into seizure...and then you've lost the both of 'em."  
  
Rick took a double take on Ross' last comment and replied acidly, "Thanks for taking the gentle, bedside manner approach! Howd'ya give Evelyn the news?!"  
  
"Oh! Gimme some sorta credit, man!" Campbell threw himself back against his chair. "But she's an arguementative little woman, isn't she? In the end I hadta be just as straightforward." The doctor stood to leave, this time allowing O'Connell to rise and escort him to the door. "I can't make meself plainer than I already 'ave. Look after 'er." He slapped Rick on the shoulder, then leaned in to whisper. "An' go easy on the, you know. She's in no fit state. " he winked, enjoying the midly embarrassed look on his friend's face. "An' neither are you!" he chuckled.  
  
As he shut the door behind his friend, a thud from the bedroom caused Jonathan to stand and head towards his sister's room; and Rick to shove his head into the hall and shout for Ross to come back.  
  
They found Evelyn lying in heap on the mat, gasping and clutching her stomach.  
  
"Get 'er up off that floor and back into the bed!" Ordered Campbell. Rick obeyed, stuggling as he did so. "Argh! Move aside, man!" The American refused, totally ignoring both the doctor's frustrated command and the seering pain in his leg, slowly managing to lift his wife carefully back onto the comfort of the mattress.  
  
"Alright, O'Connell! Now will ya move outta the bloody way!"  
  
Rick gave room to Ross and made his way around the bed to sit beside her, while Jonathan took the toddler's hand and stood silently at the foot of the bed. Evelyn was shaken and perspiring, saying nothing at all.  
  
"What were you doing?" Rick breathed against her cheek.  
  
"Nothing. I just needed to use....Ugh!" She held her hand hard against the baby and grunted at the pain.  
  
Ross looked over to Jonathan, then O'Connell and gave a weighty sigh. "Both of ya are t'do exactly as I say, when I say it! No arguements! No interuptions! And definately no offerin' up of any of ya own ideas! Understand!"  
  
Neither of them answered, they merely looked at each other then again at Evelyn as she began to relax at the end of the contraction.  
  
"Well, I'll take that as a yes! Now let's get this baby here alive!"  
  
  
  
  
  
end chapter  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: AJMackey, Nora, Eviefan, Ruse, MBooker and Mommints...thank you. I'm glad to see everyone is enjoying my Ross, he's really fun to write and I like Rick having a friend from the past. See, he wasn't just a boring old mercenary after all. I'm becoming quite attached to Furborough too! I have plans for that boy! ;-) 


	8. Uncommon Fates

CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL  
  
by Marcher (gama39@austarmetro.com.au)  
  
PG13  
  
  
  
Chapter 8 ~ Uncommon Fates  
  
It had been four hours since Ross had returned from his hurried round trip to the hospital, yet the child seemed no closer to being born than before he left. Moreover, there was a cold edge to the unsettled silence between the doctor and the ex-Legionnaire whom he counted among his friends. The two men had almost come to blows over their conflicting opinions on whether or not to move Evelyn to the hospital. A stubborn clash which only worsened an already unfavourable situation.  
  
The physician had taken the standard viewpoint of his profession, imperiously pressing his point that both mother and child would fare much better in a hospital. A frame of mind which caused him considerable frustration when it met with O'Connell's obstreperous refusal. The American was convinced that any move would be dangerous, let alone taking her to the stark, unsanitary wards of a hell pretending to be a medical facility. His and Jonathan's experiences alone were enough to assure him of that! If any doubt remained in Campbell's mind as to O'Connell's opinion on the matter, it was rapidly quashed when his friend took a firm grip on his shirt front, pulling their faces unpleasantly close. Aside from cuffing the offending hand from his clothing, Ross' only retaliation was a stern, silent glare; enough to fill Rick with a sense of ignominy. Embarrassed, the American took a step backward and ran a nervous hand this his hair.  
  
So, it transpired that Ross relucantly made the trip alone, returning with whatever equipment he was able to lay his hands on. Now, time found him sitting in the armchair beside the bed with nothing to be done other than keep check on the young woman, and wait!  
  
~o~  
  
The Yorkshireman pulled a pocket watch from the inside of his crumpled jacket, letting the chain thread through his fingers, and lifted it into his view. Frowning at the amount of time which had dragged it's heels since his return, he silently replaced the timepiece into it's hidden lay and stretched his arms along the rests of the chair. Wearily, he tilted his head back and considered the ordeal facing the couple before him. A thought crossed the doctor's mind that perhaps Rick's fierce, unyielding attitude had only served in delaying the inevitable. The state of his friend's wife was not bearing well, although she was doing her utmost to convince both himself and her husband of the contrary. She clenched her jaw firmly during each contraction, willing herself to make as little noise as possible. So much so, that only the slightest of whimpers would creep past her lips while her body shook rigidly before collapsing into a temporary state of peace.  
  
With an inaudible sigh of concern, Ross struggled with the decision of when and how to intervene; and while mulling over his thoughts his eyed drifted onto O'Connell and the sight which he knew he would have laid good money against ever seeing. It wouldn't surprise him if at some point he probably had! Yet, however unexpected, it presented itself to him now. It did his heart good, although he would never admit it out loud. The American was no longer the reckless youth of seven years ago who sat bleeding in his medical tent refusing treatment, yet he was still the soldier of old. He watched unobtrusively as O'Connell lay beside this girl, steadying her head to tilt a glass of water to her lips and easing her down before slipping his fingers back into her hand. The old lion smiled mildly at the sight. The basics of the boy were still evident, but he found himself intrigued with the pattern time had woven on O'Connell's character.  
  
"It's another boy, you know." Evelyn's voice barely a whisper; her hand missing it's mark when she pulled it free to brush against her husband's cheek.  
  
Clutching her fingers, Rick pulled her slumped hand into his chest and smiled gently, "You think so?" His voice reflected hers as he added quietly, "I thought only girls were this much trouble?"  
  
Evelyn didn't respond. Rick wasn't even sure she had heard him. She merely closed her eyes and let her head roll listlessly against his shoulder. He cast a worried glance in Ross' direction, receiving nothing in reply. He knew a blind man would have been able to see that Evelyn was getting worse, but Rick found it impossible to read the detached expression of the doctor.  
  
Evelyn coughed, scarcely succeeding in raising her head. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly. "I didn't tell you it was Ethan."  
  
Unsure of her meaning, Rick could only shake his head and hush her.  
  
The sound of Alex crying from the next room filtered through and Evelyn immediately strained her head towards the door, attempting to roll over and get up, "We can't leave him out there alone. It's not fair."  
  
There was no effort needed in order to prevent her feeble attempt to rise, just a gentle pressure to her shoulder and her head slumped back down onto the pillow. Rick leaned in close to whisper that Alex was fine, "Jonathan's with him. Remember?"  
  
"Jonathan!" She looked up at Rick with genuine surprise and joy, "He's back? All the way from the Continent?"  
  
Rick humoured her and kissed the top of her head, "Yeah, Honey. He's back."  
  
Ross leaned over the arm of the chair, delving his hand into the depths of his ragged tan bag and produced a small cylindrical, wooden object before he stood. He placed his hand into the arch of his stiff back and stretched before leaning over Evelyn and pressing one end of the instrument against the child and the other to his ear. Pulling himself upright, he insisted that she lay quietly from now on and tossed his OB stethoscope back into the bag. Without missing a beat, he then pressed his hands firmly around the bulge of the child. The mother groaned at the painful proceedure, offering a pathetic wriggle as resistance to the discomfort.  
  
Alex's cries continued to dominate the activity in the next room, like a shrieking omen of bad tidings. Jonathan's efforts to quiet the boy were proving fruitless and once again Evelyn attempted to go to him. Rick wished passionately for his brother-in-law to simply bundle up his son and carry him to some place else. Anywhere, so long as his wails were no longer a distraction.  
  
Searching for her pulse, Ross grabbed hold of Evelyn's wrist still without passing a single comment. Obviously dis-satisfied with his findings, he pressed his large hand to her forhead and grunted.  
  
Rick watched every movement. Heard each unspoken word. Still his son's crying echoed from behind the closed door. The unease which had been lurking in the pit of his stomach since Evelyn was found crumpled on the floor was now surging it's way into his throat. Ross was still infuriatingly silent and Rick felt as though he would suffocate in the void! Any time for obedient patience was now gone and Rick abruptly demanded. "WHAT?"  
  
Non sparing of a glance towards the father, Campbell replaced a hand onto Evelyn's stomach and pressed again, "She's delirious."  
  
"No kidding!"  
  
Lifting his weight from the bed, Campbell gave a friendly tug on O'Connell's shirt. "On ya toes, then! This baby needs t'be born sooner rather than later; an' you 'n' I are just the blokes t'do it!"  
  
O'Connell's heart missed a beat! He didn't know what the hell that meant or what was going to happen! He couldn't even decide if he was horrified or just a little apprehensive of what had just been asked of him. But he was given no room to react. Once again Evelyn squeezed hard on his hand, but this time she cried out, and loudly! She half rose from the bed, lifting her free hand to Rick's arm and pulling him into her. Her body shook violently as she continued to squeal through her clenched jaw, then just as suddenly she collapsed backwards and passed out!  
  
"Move off the bed!" Ross boomed the order and Rick obliged with a stunned, awkward movement.  
  
The pain in his leg that normally would have made him catch his breath, now only felt like a dull ache. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and could have sworn that time and movement had ground to a halt!  
  
In sharp contrast to Rick's staggered response to events, Ross was in full swing. Ignoring all modest bedside manner, which had never been his trademark anyway, Campbell flung back the sheet covering Evelyn to reveal a blood-soaked mattress, "Get towels, sheets...whatever ya can grab!"  
  
Rick stood still a moment too long.  
  
"F'God's sake, man! NOW! Don't just stand there gawking at me!"  
  
Snapping himself into the here and now, Rick took the few short paces required of him, making no effort to spare the pain of his own injury. When he turned back, Ross had a lain a cluster of the most gruesome looking surgical instruments along the foot of the bed, one of which was a scalpel. For an instant Rick stared in disbelief, then demanded, "What the hell are you gonna do with those?!"  
  
"We're gonna save 'er life." Ross responded so calmly that it irritated the already apprehensive father. "Me, and you!"  
  
Rick shook his head with defiance, "NO! You save them both! Don't leave me with explanations for one or the other, Ross!"  
  
Avoiding his friend's glance, Campbell offered up a pearl of his of wisdom while deftly reaching for the scalpel. "The tide turns at low water as well as high."  
  
Rick shook his head, unable to take his eyes from the object in Ross' hand, "What the hell is that supposed to mean!!"  
  
Right or wrong, Ross only had his friend's best interest in mind as he continued to speak in a calm, reassuring manner, "I've said it before, learn to co-operate with the inevitable. Just tie a knot at t'end of ya rope 'n' hang on, Lad. Now's nowt time t'panic."  
  
"It's no time for your fucking philosophical views on life either!" Rick spat back, now wholly unable to prevent himself shaking with anger. Or was it fear. Evelyn was laying pale and motionless in a pool of blood and he was getting no answers as to why. Alex's cries had now reached the point of hysteria and he wanted to slam his fist into the door, shouting anger at all around him. He was the Captain, the soldier. It had been he who had faced countless enemies and survived, even triumphant on occassion. He was the one able to control or manipulate whatever situation he had been faced with. Except this one. In the pit of his gut he knew that when this was over he'd be lucky to have either Evie or the baby, not both. But he wasn't ready to acknowledge that yet. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be.  
  
"Hold this!" Ross pushed an long, curved instrument into Rick's hand and ordered, "Give it over when I say."  
  
O'Connell held the object at arms length, staring at it in disbelief. He hated this shit! The unconsious wife with unborn baby, the reticent doctor, the endless damn crying from Alex! He was sweating. He could swear the walls were closing in on him and he barked savagely at his friend. "Damn you, Ross! Stop ignoring me!"  
  
Campbell reached out and took the forceps from his friend's grasp and spoke solemly, "I'm sorry, Lad. But I'll only be leavin' ya with one of 'em."  
  
His heart stopped! He didn't want or need to hear this. He knew it! Had done for hours now, but hearing it was another thing entirely. He watched with dread as Ross went on with his god-awful, thankless task and tried to force himself to breathe. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice failed him. All he could muster was low, broken murmur, "What?"  
  
Just for a moment, Ross stilled himself and pressed his chin into his chest. This news was never easy to hear. What's more, no matter how many times he'd seen it, the telling was always the most wretched part, "The child's already dead."  
  
He had heard the words as clearly as he could hear Alex crying, and they registered cold and blunt. Rick stood. Staring.  
  
"Nowt 'er fault either. In cases like this it's more n'likely to happen whether she fell or not." Ross didn't need to look over at Rick in order to see he had stepped back and turned away from him. Neither did he expect the man to speak. The ex-Legionnaire's silence spoke volumes.  
  
~o~  
  
It was another half hour before Alex ceased his cries. Most likely exhausted himself and fallen asleep, Ross had thought to himself. And glad of it, he was too! He side-stepped his way out of the bathroom, drying his hands as he walked and saw Rick still leaning his weight onto one fully extended arm pressed against the opposite wall.  
  
Casting the towel onto the floor, Campbell silently moved over the still unconcious Evelyn, taking her pulse and temperature. "Will more 'n likely be a few hours before she's awake. Do ya want me t'stay on?"  
  
Rick spoke without turning. Without even thinking, really. "Yeah. We could both use a drink."  
  
A dismal silence followed for the next few moments, awkwardly broken by the doctor. "Are ya gonna take a look at him, at least?"  
  
Rick hung his head, then turned slowly to see the tiny, lifeless form lying in the frilly edged crib which Evelyn had bought months before Alex had been born. Something inside him was hounding and tormenting him, telling him over and over that he should have been able to prevent all this. His shoulders were tense and his stomach felt as though it was filled with stones. His feet felt like lead as he moved closer to the crib and looked in, "She said it was going to be another boy. She even told me his name."  
  
Exhausted, Rick let himself fall into the bedside chair. For the first time in what seemed like a thousand hours, he allowed himself to stretch his injured leg and noticed the pain. He pointed to the door as he threw his head back against the rest and closed his eyes, "The whisky's through there."  
  
  
  
end chapter  
  
Sorry this took so long to appear. I feel like I've been writing this chapter for months. You see, my computer ate it a few weeks back, right when I was just about finished. I know I'm not the only one to have ever suffered this, but it sure bites! Wouldn't have been so bad if it had been a cheery chapter, at least. Again my thanks to you faithful reviewers, AJM, Mexx, Mommints, Eviefan and Ruse. Sending you all hugs and peaceful vibes! If anyone has any thoughts on how I could have intensified the mood here, please let me know. I'd be grateful to hear cos the next few chapters are going to be doozies! I've been reading Stephen King lately, sorry if it shows! Maureen. 


	9. Spoken Word, Sped Arrow, Neglected Opp

CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL  
by Marcher  
PG13  
Chapter 9 - THE SPOKEN WORD ~ THE SPED ARROW ~ AND THE NEGLECTED OPPORTUNITY  
Evelyn opened her eyes, but just slightly. The room was dark, save for the gentle glow of the bedside lamp, but harsh enough to make her squeeze her eyelids shut then flutter them to adjust to the light.  
  
Everything was quiet. No murmured voices. No sound of Alex skittering his route between furniture, or footsteps of any kind. Not even the clinking of crockery. Nothing to suggest that another soul was awake or even present.  
  
An overwhelming exhaustion hung over her and her body felt unusually heavy, even in this prone state. Staring up at the drab cornice, she set her mind to remembering events prior to her loss of consciousness. It seemed a wasted effort in any case as her recollection was really nothing more than a patchwork of bits and pieces. The one thing which did stand out in memory was was Alex's distress, but in the current silence there was no way of telling how long ago that was or if Rick had been able to calm him. The rest was just a blur of words, movement and pain. There was something else too. A feeling of blame; a belief that she had engineered the whole sorry episode herself through sheer obstinacy. Still, things appeared to be better now and she promised herself, that in future, she would heed the requests of her husband and Doctor Campbell.  
  
Sleep was creeping over her eyes, her body totally unconcerned with her short span of wakefulness or her mind's desire to remember. Turning her head into the pillow after a slight battle to keep herself awake, Evelyn closed her eyes. Instantly, the scent of clean linen against her cheek renewed her fight and her eyes shot open through curiosity. By now her vision had adjusted to the light and she saw the shadowed form of her husband apparently sleeping in the chair beside her. The room was still peaceful and Evelyn smiled warmly at the man relaxed before here. 'Things are well now, Darling.' she thought and placed a hand to belly, expecting to rub the bulge of her baby.  
  
Nothing!  
  
Hastily lifting her head, she stared at herself in shock and incredulity "I've had the baby!" The sudden impulse to sit up and look for her child was sharply thwarted by a savage sting of pain, so severe and unexpected it made her yelp loudly into the silence. Within moments, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and another about her chest, gently lowering her back onto the bed. The pain subsided somewhat, but remained, and the hushed blather pressed against her ear soon began filtering through clearly as Rick's voice urging her to lie still.  
  
"There you go." His hand slipped away from her back to push a stray curl from her eye. His voice quiet and gravelled; and although she could smell the whisky on his breath, it was plain he wasn't drunk. "Nothing too frisky for a few weeks yet, okay. You've had a pretty rough time." Looking into her eyes, he attempted a smile but knew it must have appeared more like a grimace and he mentally kicked himself at only being able to curl one corner of his mouth.  
  
Trying to turn her shoulders towards him only resulted in another surge of pain and she gasped, holding her breath until it passed. She groaned in frustration and regret at having moved so suddenly when she realized the baby had been born. Now it was clear this discomfort was going to continue for some time yet. Rick squeezed her fingers gently, again insisting that she not try to move again. "Best to be still for as long as you can, Honey."  
  
Running her tongue across her dry lips, she let her head rest in the palm of his hand and gladly sipped from the glass he offered, before easing herself back down. "What happened? Where's the baby?" Still unaware of Rick's struggle to spare her the news as long as possible, perhaps even mistaking his sombre mood for fatigue, a mischevious sparkle flickered in her eyes right before she teased him triumphantly. "I was right, wasn't I? We've got another little boy."  
  
Rick nodded, barely. She frowned and looked properly into his eyes, searching for what she immediately suspected, yet feared too much to discover. Those blue eyes seemed too full of concern; ailed as she had never known them to be.  
  
Evelyn's smile faltered with her voice, "Where is he?" Her eyes darted about the room and spied the crib adjacent to Rick's back. He still hadn't answered and when she spoke a second time her question was laced in fear. "Rick? Where is he?!"  
  
"Evie..."  
  
Her impulse was natural and ignorant of the stabbing pain. Evelyn forced herself to sit all the way up and crane her head over his shoulder to see into the crib, but her resolve was quickly defeated by the sharp pangs and she started to tremble in Rick's steadying hold.  
  
"Please Evie, lay back. It's...it's not..."  
  
The fear gripping her heart was all consuming. His eyes were saying more than his words ever could and once more Evelyn struggled in vain to free herself from his arms, and lost. Tears were beginning their bitter journey down her cheeks and Rick knew she would refuse to hear that which she probably already knew.  
  
"Sweetheart, please. Just lie down and...."  
  
"No." It was a rueful whisper, all she could manage. She hung her head, shaking it in defiance. "Don't tell me this, Rick. Not this!"  
  
Still keeping himself between his wife and the crib, the ex-Legionnaire slowly lifted her face and broke the tragic news as carefully as he knew how. "It didn't go well, Honey..." The words stuck in his throat and he lowered his eyes, "...you were bleeding so much and..." Looking at her now; seeing the silent distress streaming down her face made his task even harder, it was impossible to watch her any longer! He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms about her, as if cocooning her would somehow lessen the blow. "....we couldn't save him, Evie. I'm just so, so sorry." The room was so silent he could hear the both of them breathing yet he could do little more than stroke her back , "I'm lucky I've still got you."  
  
Her body began to quake with silent sobs until her lungs heaved for air! Her voice returned with such a mournful cry, Rick had to swallow repeatedly to force down his own anguish, his voice completely lost. His wife was collapsing in his arms through grief and at last he was able to gently guide her down onto her back. He couldn't tell how much of her agony was caused by sorrow and how much by pain! One was probably fusing with the other anyway and she was still vulnerable to infection in her weakened state. Keeping Evelyn well and calm had now become his main concern, but once again this day, Rick felt completely useless and out of his depth. At best all he could offer her were his arms and a shoulder to weep on.  
  
She cried for longer he cared to remember.  
  
~~~  
  
It had been weeks since all the baby paraphernalia had been bundled into a chest and hidden beneath a white lace tablecloth and never mentioned since. It was cleared away on Evelyn's request the day after her stillborn son was placed in her arms.  
  
Nor was Evelyn present at the burial, only Rick and Jonathan. She had been absolutely forbidden to venture from the confines of her bed under the warning that she would be risking her own life! A sentence dutifully overseen by a kindly but stern nurse. Part of her soul weeped at not being there to see the tiny coffin lowered into the ground, yet somewhere deep down she was grateful at being spared a memory that would haunt the rest of her days. Rick's face when he returned that day was ashen...almost beaten. However, not once had he reproached her in any way. He delivered no blame, nor took it. He simply never spoke of it. If he had cried, well, she wasn't witness to it. Jonathan too was shaken by this whole accursed affair and Evelyn was forced to admit, at least for the time being, that he was better company than her husband. Even though Rick had never actually accused her, she felt an underlying resentment from him and was more comfortable with her brother's company.  
  
Evelyn herself, had become withdrawn and moody. Occassionaly she would beam a genuine smile at Alex, but mostly it was a struggle to feign the good humour she was sometimes able to muster. And, it was none too soon when she was finally given a bill of health from Ross Campbell and permitted to get on with her life and move about unquestioned. In fact, it was nothing short of relief! Lying about in bed being completely reliant on her husband and brother was only marginally less troublesome than the pain which nagged at her constantly. As far as Evelyn was concerned, she had been given far too much time to stare at the ceiling and grieve. Yet, even now with her renewed independence, she discovered she had little interest in moving any further than her closeted Fort Brydon quarters and tend to Alex's needs. Deep down there lurked an awful guilt which she was not ready to face. For now, at least, avoiding it seemed a gentler course for her heart to take.  
  
These days, Rick would usually spend a few hours each morning just sitting with her, mostly in silence save for pleasantries here and there. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn't saying. Their time together usually ended when he left to 'sort out business' as he put it. He never said exactly where he was going, or what business needed so much attention. A point in matter Evelyn intended on taking up with him...perhaps tomorrow. She shook her head and banished the notion, feeling that it would only initiate an explosion of suppressed emotions and each day when he closed the door behind him it was becoming routine for her to brush aside the tears and pretend that everything was fine.  
  
Today was no better than yesterday. Jonathan had been absent all morning and she missed the nonsense of his chatter. Rick had left their quarters almost an hour ago, leaving Evelyn to potter aimlessly between the furniture and watch Alex sleep. She hated the empty hours. It was now she would think on Ethan and try to imagine him sleeping alongside his older brother instead of lying deep in the cold grave he shared with her parents. The solitude was where she grieved and cried. It was where she was haunted by guilt and blame.  
  
It was now as she was lost in her sorrow, than the door swung open surprising her. She quickly stood and rushed to the window making a vain attempt to hide her distress by pretending to rearrange a vase of flowers. Her hands shook no matter how she tried to control them and concealing her tears required an absurd act of running the back of her hand over her face in a long swoop that would catch her hair and fling it over her shoulders. Quickly glancing behind, she saw Rick standing just inside the room, his hand still clutching the doorknob. On seeing her poorly disguised state he had stopped mid-step, suddenly unsure of what he should do. He knew what she needed, it was exactly what he needed himself, but these recent weeks had seen him struggling with a pain he was ill equiped to handle. It was of little consequence that Ross, even Jonathan, had assured him that his son's death was a blamless turn of events, he simply could not shake the guilt of having failed in saving him. Or that Evelyn could have layed her work aside when the signs began pointing to trouble. It was a double anger which had been burning in his heart and now when he watched her dealing with her own pain he was hard pushed to acknowledge it. It was obvious she was trying not to let him see, so he released the door and stepped inside to retrieve his wallet from the desk.  
  
"Those flowers look almost dead." The tone of his voice barely disguised his disinterest in the floral arrangement, but at least it was something to say which would break the ice and play into her charade.  
  
"They're not so bad. There's at least a day left in them."  
  
"Alex alseep?"  
  
'Yes. For about half an hour now."  
  
He slipped the wallet into his hip pocket and walked slowly to the door. Evelyn still hadn't turned around and he sighed softly, bemoaning the fact that their strained silences were becomming longer with each passing day. "Good. Gives you time to yourself to relax or whatever." He reached for the door and was halted by his wife's choking call.  
  
"Rick!"  
  
He stopped and looked over at her. Her cheeks were damp and her eyes red from crying. She stood nervously wringing her hands and continually swapped her glance from the floor to him.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I've had more than enough time on my own to relax."  
  
His mind quickly recalled from the time he first met her to right now. It wasn't so long, but he couldn't name a single time when he had seen her as timid as how she stood before him now.  
  
"I'm not sure I can handle much more." This time when she met his eyes, hers were full of wishing and need, "It would be nice if you stayed rather than rushing off to wherever it is you're going."  
  
He hesitated for only a moment then uttered the opposite of what he really knew he should do. "I can't. But I'll be back later."  
  
Evelyn found her courage and tinged her voice with anger, "Well later won't do! I'd like you to stay now!"  
  
His eyes narrowed somewhat as his voice deepend., "What you'd like and what you get are two different things, Evelyn! I'll be back later." He turned away from her and opened the door.  
  
"We can't avoid this any longer, Rick! We simply must speak!"  
  
Evelyn hadn't even realized she'd shouted until he responded in kind. For the first time since their child's death his eyes and voice overflowed with a mix of pain and anger. His voice boomed in her ears and stabbed at her heart. "SPEAK?!" Rick let go the door and took a step towards her. "I've done nothing but speak for the last three months...and it's never done a damn bit of good! Now all of a sudden you think it's a good idea?!" Evelyn remained motionless, staring. Stunned by an outburst which she knew full well was simmering quietly but was never really prepared for. "Not this time, Evelyn. Not now!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"WHY! Because I know I can't do this without saying a hell of a lot of things that I'm gonna regret later! That's why! I'm just not ready to sit and listen to you cry without wanting to shake some sense into you!" He drew a sharp breath and lifted his head towards the ceiling, desperately trying to hold back the worst of his accusations. His hands were level with his shoulder in a show of frustration and clenched into fists. His next words were strained and angry, but it seemed to him they fell from his lips of their own accord, "Without wanting to grab you by the hand, take you out there and make you stare down at his grave like I did!"  
  
Her face went pale and she said nothing. Absolutely nothing. She just looked at him, hurt and guilty at the same time. He knew he'd gone too far and stammered while he thought desperately of how to quash the spent rage which had been pent up for so long. He couldn't. Nor could he stand there a moment longer and look at what he'd just done to her. He simply turned and walked out the door.  
  
~~~  
  
The 3rd Regiment of the French Foreign Legion had began the process of bundling supplies and equipment in preparation for their impending departure from Cairo. The camp was being disassembled piece by piece and anything which could be spared was being sold off to the locals with the profits going directly into the pockets of those quick enough to pawn the goods. This was a common practice amongst the Legionnaires and one which went purposely unnoticed by the ranking Officers.  
  
Haris Furborough rolled his full pack, secured the leather belts on either side and fixed it firmly beneath the saddle of his horse. All was in order save for one loose string. He looked at his watch and smiled at the good time he'd made in packing. Nothing but time until the Regiment pulled out. Nothing but time to see an end to this O'Connell matter. The perfect opportunity to take his revenge and disappear before the local authority was any the wiser. He tapped the young Private Waters on the shoulder who responded with a nod and followed his Corporal into the Cairo alleyways.  
  
~~~  
  
The bar was almost empty, unusual for the time of day. Apart from O'Connell and Carnahan, the other patrons were just a scattering of locals immersed in topics of the day and one comotose upper-class Englishman slumped in his chair in the furthest alcove. Earlier, as Jonathan had entered the bar, he had recognized the drunkard as the driver of the vehicle which had knocked him down and was tempted to whack the tippler over the head with his now omnipresent cane. However the Lord of the Manor, as Jonathan had derided him, was too inebriated for any effective satisfaction, so as compensation, Jonathan stole the half full whisky bottle from his table and settled himself next to his brother-in-law at the bar.  
  
Swallowing his third shot, Jonathan groaned in frustration and spun around on his stool to face O'Connell. "You know, it's damn near impossible to get any sort of decent conversation from either you or my sister these days!"  
  
Rick let the bitter liquid slide over his tongue and silently placed his glass on the counter before turning to face Evelyn's brother. "What would you like to talk about?"  
  
On seeing the look in O'Connell's eye, Jonathan decided it was best to begin on mundane topics. "How's your leg?"  
  
"Better."  
  
"I see you're still limping somewhat. Must be still nagging at you, hey?"  
  
"It's better than yours, then."  
  
"Aaah." Jonathan nodded and re-filled both empty shot glasses. Raising his, Jonathan offered a light hearted toast. "To better days ahead!" and O'Connell snapped.  
  
"Better than this, you mean? That wouldn't be too hard, would it?" From the corner of his eye, he caught the image of Evelyn standing just outside the door. Alex stood next to her clutching her hand, trying to pull his mother forward into the male bastion but was unable to make her budge. Jonathan turned around as well, then flicked his eyes between the two O'Connell's hoping at least one of them would say something sensible. But if wishes were fishes, he could have dragged the whole sea and come up empty handed. The only words to pass between them was Evelyn's curt announcement that she was taking Alex for a walk. Jonathan wasn't even sure if Rick had responded with little more than a nod before he turned back to the bar.  
  
Evelyn vanished as quickly as she had appeared and Jonathan ventured a word of advice to Rick. Most likely it wouldn't have helped much, but this was a discovery to be left unknown. The raised finger and silent glare from the American was enough for Jonathan to merely lift the whisky bottle and top up his drink.  
END CHAPTER  
I know, I know, this morbidity is dragging on. But I feel I can't get through to the end without having to wade through all the mud, this stuff needs more than just lip service. I promise I won't torture them.....for much longer anyway. And to all who have requested a brighter, happier ending.....well, I'll see what I can do. What I can promise is more punching and rolling in the dirt for the next chapter.  
  
My apologies for taking so long to updated. As I often say, "life happens" and you'd better believe that this saying has proven very true for me of late! I've been at a loss to know whether I'm coming or going some days! :)  
  
So my thanks for your reviews and your endless patience.....A.J.Mackey, Ruse, Mommints, Eviefan, MBooker and new people Den and Ivyarah &Malfanaion...love to see new people. Thanks everyone! :) You people make me smile. 


	10. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal. I make no money from this story. The characters of Ross Campbell and Emir Hammond are my own invention. And yes, the title of this chapter comes directly from the song by AC/DC. It just seemed to fit.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL  
  
BY Marcher  
  
PG13  
  
CHAPTER 10 ~ Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap  
  
The sun was hotter than Evelyn had anticipated and her pace was more of a stroll than a walk. It seemed so long ago since she had last taken the time to venture into the streets and it appeared her mind had either forgotten the heat, or perhaps she was losing it. Alex still clutched her hand, his tiny legs waning in her wake and was simply unable to keep up. As she looked down at him, yet more guilt washed over her and she bent down to his level, scolding herself for causing him such distress. She tilted back the brim of his hat to see his flushed cheeks and tried to lift him. Just the effort of raising his feet from the ground made her bite her bottom lip at the dull ache in her stomach. Dr. Campbell may have given her permission to walk around, but perhaps a self-pitying jaunt around the Cairo market places was still beyong her capabilities.  
  
Setting Alex down in a shaded doorway, she squeezed next to him and wrapped her arm about his shoulders. Her little boy immediately dropped his head into her lap and Evelyn found herself forcing back tears for having dragged him along on her self-indulgent, soul searching walk.  
  
"I'm sorry little one. I don't seem to be doing anything right of late." It was a hushed lament, as much to herself as to her son, and she decided to return to the Fort, carrying Alex if she must. Then her eyes turned towards the entrance of a narrow street which led away from the bustling crowd to a solemn serenity. She gazed thoughtfully at the sun bleached entrance and absently stroked the back of her son's head. Perhaps it would help, perhaps not, but there was only one way to find out. So, with Rick's words ringing in her ears, she gently guided Alex away from the step and walked along the shaded side of the street towards the paved cemetary and her infant's grave.  
  
~~~  
  
"You know, Rick. My little sister has a stubborn streak that runs the entire length of her back. She'll dig her heels in until you can't stand it any longer." Jonathan's observation of Evelyn was more verbal musing than advice. The effect of the alcohol was at it's pleasing stage and Jonathan was simply thinking aloud.  
  
O'Connell slanted his head towards his brother-in-law and groaned wearily, "You mean until I eventually give in for the sake of peace."  
  
Jonathan responded as though divine light had showered down upon the American's head! Pivoting in his seat, he pushed his glass aside and faced O'Connell with look of sheer delight. "Yes! That's it! Now you're getting it!"  
  
"You're not telling me anything I don't know, Jonathan." The troubled husband fiddled the shot glass between his thumb and forefinger, then shoved it against the bottle in a request to have it refilled. "It's not as easy as that this time. It's just..." Then it occured to him that he owed absolutely no explaination to Jonathan, "...just stay out of it!"  
  
Jonathan's heart sank with his shoulders, "Fine by me. The icy devide between you two is no place for a sane man, anyway."  
  
"You consider yourself sane?" Rick couldn't help laughing aloud and was even more amused by Jonathan's indignant expression.  
  
O'Connell watched with amused interest as Evelyn's brother self-righteously pulled his shoulders straight and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, sane!" He offered without a hint of intoxication. "Let's just look at the picture here, shall we?" Still smiling, the American's eyes widened at Jonathan's enlightened tone, "Which one of us is sitting here brooding, completely at a loss as to how to eliminate the misery from his life?" Jonathan swigged from his glass then absently waved his hand in the general direction of the door "And, which one of us can walk in and out that door as many times as he likes and only has to fall down to get Evelyn off his back? Hmmmm?"  
  
Speechless upon hearing what he knew to be the truth, O'Connell frowned before turning away and snarling, "Just shut up, Jonthan."  
  
"Oh...witty retort!"  
  
"So help me..."  
  
"You'll what? Punch me? Empty threats, old boy. You've never done it before. And I can't see that helping the situation you're in with my sister." Jonathan swallowed another shot for courage before adding, "But you obviously need to hit someone, seeing as you can't talk your way out of this mess!"  
  
With his eyes seething, Rick reached for Jonathan, if nothing more than to shut him up, but the arguement was broken with a stern interuption from the barman and both men fell uneasily silent. It was Jonathan who relented by lightly slapping Rick on the back, adopting a more brotherly tone. "Look, no hard feelings and whatnot. All I'm saying is, that it's bad business all 'round. It won't do any good just letting it fester."  
  
Before he could respond, Rick felt a tap to his left shoulder and twisted around to see no-one standing there, then spun to the right on hearing the stool next to him being dragged across the tiled floor. He was greeted by the tooth rotting smile of Emir Hammond. "Sorry I'm late, Captain. But some things take time."  
  
Emir was the product of his mother's brief marriage to a soldier of the King's Royal Rifle Corps on station here when the English mounted their Egyptian Campaign. Quite a whirlwind of a romance according to Emir, but it seemed to O'Connell he was embellishing on the already colourful tale he was treated to by his mother. Harmless enough in the light that his father was struck down by the typhus fever and died before his son reached his first birthday. It couldn't have been easy for him growing up. Being of mixed heritage, fatherless and having a ridiculous name would just naturally lead to a life of ostracism amongst his peers. It's no wonder Emir found a haven in the shady dealings of life. The very reason he had seated himself next to O'Connell.  
  
Rick narrowed his eyes at tall, lean man and spoke with quiet irritation. "You're over a week late, Emir! And what the hell are you doing meeting me in here?"  
  
The local smuggler glanced confidently around the room and leaned into the American, "I bring news for all concerned."  
  
"Not here!" Rick finished his whisky in a single gulp and stood, indicating the door to Emir. "Outside!" He slapped a curious Jonathan on the shoulder and caught his eye. He nodded in understanding and squeezed the Englishman's shoulder. Jonathan accepted the mute offering then glanced once again at the skinny Egyptian. O'Connell offered no more of an explanation than "Old business. Won't take long."  
  
"Aah." Unconvinced, Carnahan turned back to the bar. As he listened to the retreating footsteps of his brother-in-law and his mysterious friend, Jonathan frowned. The only difference between his and O'Connell's history was that the American was more inclined to start a fight, whereas Jonathan was quite comfortable lurking in the shadows. Whatever business O'Connell was up to, Jonathan well believed it to be fishy business. Now, he found himself presented with the dilema of whether or not to spill the beans to his sister, or heed Rick's earlier advice and stay completely out of it.  
  
~~~  
  
Outside, beneath the glaring sunlight, Rick directed Emir into a secluded corner of the Fort grounds, concurrently pushing him back against a wall while glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being watched. With a voice low and angry, he pressed his face an inch from the Egyptian's and muttered, "We were supposed to meet a week ago in front of Nasser's stall. What happened to you?"  
  
Emir glared down at the large hands which clutched his shirtfront, then stared peevishly into the eyes before him. "Don't try and intimidate me, O'Connell, or I just may forget whatever it was I came to tell you."  
  
Rick stared thoughtfully at the man before begrudgingly releasing his hold and stepped back without breaking eye contact nor offering any apology. "Just tell me what happened."  
  
"Well it seems our little operation has caught the eye of the local authorities." Emir ran the back of his hand across his brow and continued. "That dig site has doubled it's guard in the last fortnight. It's too risky to chance getting through now, we've already had a few close calls."  
  
Once again, Rick looked about to make sure there was no-one to either see or hear them. It appeared they were safely secluded from the crowd, but he motioned for Emir to walk with him just in case. "So what have we got?"  
  
"Just the few items we managed to secure before they doubled the guards. It's not much, but that Burial Ground is a huge discovery for those so-called anthropologists." Emir's disgust at the foreign scientists was blatant, "It seems because they have the title, they get to keep my country's treasure."  
  
"Don't beat yourself up over it, Emir. You were gonna sell it anyway. And they're Egyptologists."  
  
"Call them what you will, they are theives like us, but the money would have lined MY pockets!" Emir hocked and spat onto the ground, "So, you think your buyers will still be interested?"  
  
Rick continued to walk slowly, scanning the street as he did. "Well, if we haven't got what they're looking for I can always just drop the stuff off in a sack outside the museum doors. That's where all the rest of that Cemetary loot is heading for anyway."  
  
Emir turned to O'Connell in utter astonishment, "They will not pay if you just drop it at their door!"  
  
"I'm not in this for the money."  
  
The tall, thin Egyptian almost choked, "I AM! You have your thrills, I still expect my share of the treasure!"  
  
"Relax! You'll see the money."  
  
"I'd better!" He poked a grubby finger into the American's chest and pulled it away. "Anyway, I don't see why I can't find a buyer myself if yours falls through? At least that way I won't be begging from you like a stray dog."  
  
The American glared across at his criminal companion and sneered. "Sure! Do what you want with it. Makes no difference to me what happens to it."  
  
"Hey!" A voice shouted from behind them and both Rick and Emir looked questionably to each other as Jonathan approached, leaning heavily on his cane and waving his hand to signal his arrival.  
  
Recognizing him as O'Connell's drinking companion, Emir whispered sarcastically at his partner in crime, "And you berate me for being careless!"  
  
A groan grew from deep in his throat and escaped Rick's mouth in a low and grumbling growl, "He's my brother-in-law"  
  
"You are married now?!"  
  
Ignorning what he considered Emir's humourless wit, O'Connell remained staring at the approaching, chattering Englishman.  
  
"I thought the company here would be better than those drunkards I left behind." Jonathan was out of breath by the time he reached the two men and he puffed his cheerful greeting to Rick, "So, who's your friend?"  
  
"Hammond, the Egyptian." Rick offered dryly. "What are you doing here, Jonathan?"  
  
Nodding, a little puzzled by the name, Jonathan shook the hand of his brother-in-law's companion. "So what is it then? Gold? Guns? Liquor?"  
  
"What?" Rick's patience was paper thin as it was, without Jonathan setting fire to it.  
  
"Oh, come on! I didn't come down in the last shower. What is it you're looking for, or trying to sell?  
  
"Just go back to the Fort, Jonathan." Rick started to turn his back on Jonathan, but was persuaded otherwise by his brother-in-law's distinctly pleasant, yet conniving statement.  
  
"Aaah, well you see. I can't do that without getting incredibly drunk and accidentally letting my sister in on your little secret. But I'm a crack shot and an excellent thief, even if I do say so myself. I'd be one hell of an asset. I've got some pretty good connections myself, you know."  
  
Emir interupted, his words to O'Connell a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Is he here for the thrill as well, or does he expect to be paid?"  
  
Before he was able to swear at the Englishman for pushing his face in uninvited, Rick was distracted by Jonathan straining his vision as he peered around him to see down the street. Jonathan raised his hand to shield the sunlight then pointed into the distance "I say, isn't that Alex?"  
  
"What?" Rick turned on his heels to see his young son wandering aimlessly about the street and crying.  
  
END CHAPTER  
  
A/N: Not such a long chapter, but I thought I'd post it just to keep the story rolling. Time for thanks once again to you wonderful people who take the time to write a few words of review, Ruse, AJMackey, Eviefan, MBooker, Nora and RickEvie4eva. Seems I made you all cry in the last chapter, this time I hope (I said hope) I made you laugh a little. 


	11. Pride That Licks The Dust

No infrigement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough and N.Waters are entities born of my own imagination. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG 13  
  
"No coward soul is mine, no trembler in the world's storm troubled sphere..." - Emily Bronte  
  
CHAPTER 11 ~ PRIDE THAT LICKS THE DUST  
  
Forgetting the impending battle of words between himself, Emir and Jonathan, Rick's feet crunched on the sand spattered road as he turned, squinting his eyes against the bright rays to search out his son. He saw nothing other than a handful of people milling on the streets, several beast drawn carts and a single parked car. Half turning back to Jonathan, he asked uncertainly, "You sure?"  
  
"I'm certain it was." Still shielding his eyes, Jonathan stepped up beside his taller companion. He too had lost sight of the child and now with furrowed expression, urgently picked out spots ahead without result and wondered if his eyes had been playing tricks on him. "Although I can't see my sister anywhere." Before another word was uttered, Alex wandered into view from behind the stationary car; and even from this distance it was obvious he was lost and distressed.  
  
Leaving Emir to wonder and Jonathan to limp behind him, Rick disregarded the prolonged ache in his leg and hurried to the aid of his small son. At this point he was unsure whether the fact that Evelyn was nowhere in sight worried or angered him. Too much had happened over the last few months and this was just one more hassle he could do without. For a man who had lived with trouble and death for most of his life, he felt himself drowning in the wake of recent events. He wanted to distance himself from it as he had always been able to do, but it was impossible. Ethan was his son! No matter that he died before he even lived. He wasn't a soldier cut down in duty, nor a barefoot child beggar from the seedy underbelly of Egypt. Ethan was his...and the grief of his loss would not subside quickly. Slipping quietly into old habbits had provided his ravaged heart with a haven As much as Emir smuggled for the money, this time Rick joined the collusion for nothing more than the thrill of the chase. He needed to breath again..to live! To risk the danger and survive it! He knew the truth of himself with every step he took towards Alex. Shame may have etched it's mark on his conscious over the doubt his actions could cast over his wife and son, but it's force was less than that of his sorrow  
  
and confusion. He cursed the heat, something of a daily ritual it seemed lately, and imagined the fierce arguement he and his wife were bound to engage in once they found each other.  
  
~~~~  
  
Hidden and alone, Evelyn's small frame was huddled into the corner of the cemetery wall where she had crawled for safety. Her arms locked tightly around her knees and for the longest time she thought of nothing other than the loose tie on her shoe. When at length, she eventually endeavoured to fix it, her hands shook too much and her fingers seemed useless. Silence surrounded her and the world seemed as though it was a thousand miles away. Her parched mouth felt as though it had doubled in size and her jaw throbbed. Tentatively she touched her mouth, instantly pulling her hand away, wincing sharply at the pain. Her sudden gasp of pain only served to throw herself into a coughing fit that was fuelled by the sand irritating her throat. A layer of sand had settled beneath her clothes, scratching against her skin while she shuddered from the fit. In fact, the grit was everywhere; in her hair as well as her shoes and between her fingers. The more she coughed the worse it irritated. It was her own distressed sound which echoed off the walls and faded away once more into silence when it at last subsided.  
  
Slowly and carefully, she raised herself and leaned against the wall before dusting down her wrinkled skirt and ridding herself of the most visible coating of dirt. Her hand skimmed over a damp patch which for a moment confused her. Was it blood? Hard to tell against the colour of her skirt,  
  
but there seemed no other explaination for it. Had she fought that hard? What she wanted was a bath. Yes! She needed to rid herself of this dirt, and the sooner the better! Taking a step forward her legs wobbled, refusing to support her weight and forcing her to thrust a hand against the wall to steady herself. Any movement caused a terrible pain to just about any part of her body and her head began to throb out of time with her jaw. Swaying and trying to focus, Evelyn caught her breath once more and cast a cautious eye around and between the headstones, seeking out any sign of movment. There was nobody! She had been left completely alone. Ethan's grave was on the other side of the cemetery and she was as grateful  
  
for that as she was for her solitude.  
  
Instantly, her mind fell to Alex! Frantically turning her head left and right, she found no trace of him. Leaning forward, still relying on the steadying influence of one hand scraping the stone wall with her fingertips, she began calling her son's name as well as she was able.Her rasping efforts only triggered another coughing fit that dropped her back to her knees. A consuming sense of terror engulfed her as she remembered trying to hide him  
  
behind her then urgently pushing him away hoping he would find safety. Her first and only thought was that they had taken him! Stolen Alex away from her just as Ethan had been. Silent tears flowed slow and steady as she pulled herself up again, step by step clinging onto the wall as she made her way to the cemetery gates. Still no Alex! "No, no, no!" her doleful murmuring almost too quiet for even herself to hear.  
  
Looking out with the dead behind her, she was faced with the same backstreet she had ventured down after deciding to visit her child's grave. It was still practically deserted except for a middle aged local woman stacking empty baskets onto the back of a cart. Evelyn summoned every remaining shred of her English dignity and straightened herself, clearing her tearful vision with the back of her hand. Each step was arduous agony, but she she had little choice. The sturdy cart-loader turned when Evelyn was only a few yards away and set down the basket she held. The woman was visibly taken aback by the stranger's piteous condition and offered a timid, helping hand which Evelyn either didn't see or refused to accept. In a broken voice, the American's wife began asking questions of her son. Had there been any sign of him? Perhaps wandering alone or being carried away by two Legionnaires? The cart-woman stared back shaking her head in apology; not in answer but through in her inability to speak English. Now with clear desperation, Evelyn lowered her hand to demonstrate Alex's height and persisted, "A small boy! About this tall! I fear he may be lost!" Once more the woman shook her head, not understanding. Evelyn had reached the end of her endurance. Her head clouded and she stumbled a few paces over the cobbled road and collapsed.  
  
~~~~  
  
Alex struggled against the large hands which lifted his feet high from the road, his hoarse cries filling the ears of all those nearby. It took minutes of reassuranace from his father before the child recognized him, but once he did he clung to Rick's chest and his wails settled into deep sobs. Jonathan covered the distance, puffing as he arrived and rubbed his hand over the top of his nephew's head. "Is he alright?"  
  
Rick turned full circle without catching sight of Evelyn before answering, "Yeah, he looks okay. Can you see Evie anywhere?" Any initial anger he felt over the situation was fast dissolving into a real concern for her whereabouts. Even Jonathan could only offer a worried grunt in response. Both men knew that Evelyn would not willingly leave Alex to his own devices in the Cairo Marketplace and an uneasy feeling settled over the pair, perfectly relayed to each other without need of a single word.  
  
"Well do you know where she was going at least?" Jonathan's question carried every ounce of alarm and accusation that he had intended to convey; and O'Connell's response was as equally defensive.  
  
"You heard as much as I did! She just said she was taking Alex for a walk!"  
  
"Perhaps if you two had been on more civil terms lately, she might have extended the courtesy of telling you exactly where she was walking to!"  
  
"Do you wanna pick a fight with me here in the street, or would you rather help find your sister?!"  
  
"I have seen many times how families quarrel amongst themselves, and it makes me happy not having to endure such pleasantries of the domestic household." Both Carnahan and O'Connell broke there steely glare of each other and trained it accurately upon Emir, but the Egyptian's sarcasm did not falter. "Can I now freely assume that I've bought into the family business and that this waif belongs to you, O'Connell?"  
  
"Assume what you want, Emir!" Rick's blunt tone was wasted on the half- Egyptian who simply dropped his shoulders in frustration over the delay in their business. "Find Nasser and tell him to wait until he hears from me."  
  
"And that would be when, do you think? It becomes more dangerous for us the longer we hold onto these items! And if we waste too much more time the buyers will get cold feet! You know that as well as anybody!"  
  
"Not much longer!" O'Connell snapped, "He'll hear from me by tonight! Just find him and tell him!"  
  
"And tell him there's an extra share of the booty to be divvied up as well!" Hammond was taken aback by Jonathan's announcement and shot a look of dumfounded surprise at the American.  
  
O'Connell too turned to Jonathan and with a certain tone of defeat in his voice, waved Emir on his way and groaned, "Yeah, tell him that as well."  
  
Emir cursed in his native tongue and shuffled on his way, sporadically turning back to mutter his disapproval under his breath.  
  
He hadn't gone ten feet when a breathless shout caught the attention of all those who mingled about the vacinity, which was soon followed by the appearance of the cart-woman stumbling into the street. O'Connell and his companions stared silently as she halted to rest her plump frame against a shop wall to catch her breath. The woman raised her arm as though it were made of lead and waved to several men clustered on the other side of the road before glupling her breath and gasping, "Yalla!" The group she had signalled made their way across the street shouting her name, believing her to be ill or suspecting trouble in the nature of business. Their concern heightened when she leaned her hands heavily against her thighs, her chest still heaving for air and choked out her words, "Yalla!...hi iHtaj...musa'adi! la-t a Ht haunik"  
  
Her plea intrigued Emir who ambled his way back to his companions and stared down into the alleyway from where the woman appeared. Straining his head from side to side he enquired lazily,"Do you see anything?"  
  
O'Connell ignored him. His full attention was focused on the woman. His knowledge of the local language served him well enough to get by, but her breathless cries made little sense to him other than to convey the obvious urgency of what she was trying to say. Considering the manner in which Alex had been left to fend for himself, the woman's sudden, distressed appearance filled him with unease. It was Jonathan who answered Emir with his usual degree of intolerance, "See what? Even if I could speak the lingo, it would be impossible to understand her through all that heavy breathing!"  
  
Emir buried his hands in his pockets and nodded his head in the direction of the alley, ""Something's happened to someone in there. A woman from what she says."  
  
Still doubled over from her unexpected exertion, the matriach of these men lifted her head to see them stood fussing over her instead of following her  
  
instructions. She slapped one of them on the hip and swatted her hand in the direction behind, repeating urgently, "Yalla!!"  
  
The feeling in the pit of Rick's gut was fast developing into sickening knot. Without wasting time on explanations, he pushed Alex into Jonathan's  
  
arms and followed the group, almost certain of what he would find.  
  
~~~~  
  
Neil Waters' pace waned in the footsteps of his Corporal, Haris Furborough as they made their way through the bustling streets. They still had a few hours to kill before the Regiment moved out and Furborough had been emphatic they make the most of the time they had left. As he had pointed out previously to his young command, there was no telling when such a variety of entertainment would be next be available to them. However, his blithe quip of 'make hay while the sun shines' left a sour taste in the young American's mouth. Private Waters was struggling to comprehend the event he had not only been forced to witness, but to stand guard over. Warnings were beginning to flash in his mind and he fixed his eyes on the back of his vulgarian Senior Officer. A hatred began to plant it's first seeds in his heart as he watched Furborough walk ahead of him. An irksome bile was churning slowly in the pit of his stomach and was gathering an intesity. Waters found his feet would carry him no further of their own accord without question. He stopped dead in his tracks and watched the uniform clad figure ahead of him merge into the crowd. He thought of the small boy she had pushed to safety, unwittingly creating an unusual concern for the child. He then thought of the woman herself and spat to be  
  
rid of the rising insipid taste in his mouth before denouncing the Legionnaire ahead of him, "Who was she?!" It was a demanding shout but there was no immediate retaliation from Furborough. He only turned his head over his shoulder to cast an almost mocking look at his younger comrade.  
  
"She was reprisal!"  
  
Confounded, Water's shuffled on the spot, shaking his head. He was at a total loss as to how make sense of this! He tried forming words of reply but blind astonishment prevented him from uttering anything other than a few confused gasps. Furborough ambled back to his side and jolted the boy with  
  
an overly firm slap of confidence to his shoulder, "Of course, I wasn't expecting to run into the little lady all alone, completely by herself! But chance is a fine thing, hey! Is it not?"  
  
The Private shook his head in furious confusion, "What did she do? She hardly looked the type to steal or ..."  
  
"She was pay back for my recent injuries." Furborough interupted with a sickening sneer, but he continued regardless of his friends obvious disdain, "A bonus you could say."  
  
Waters' was losing patience and gaining anxiety in the face of The Corporal's outrageous arrogance, "But how does she figure in your broken face? She sure as hell wasn't strong enough to lay you out!"  
  
Furborough's small eyes narrowed as he stepped up close and spoke in sinister breath against Waters' cheek, "You might say she was the beginning of all my trouble in this town. Women are always trouble." He mused aloud before adding somewhat lightheartedly, "Besides which, she was only a folly! I plan to exact my revenge on the man himself before we pull out today." The Corporal of the Legion glanced skyward to track the point of the sun before casting his eyes into the crowd, "There's still a few good hours of sunlight left. Anyway, he shouldn't be too hard to find once he finds her." The malice in his laugh snaked it's way into his arm and wrapped itself around Neil Waters' shoulders. Furborough leaned a heavy, overly friendly force around the Private's neck, motioning for him to follow but Waters' recoiled from the Corporal's contact and moved out of reach. A chilling realization  
  
washed over him and the young American stammered, aghast,  
  
"That was O'Connell's wife!"  
  
The nefarious soldier scoffed in reply, "Yeah. Well so he says."  
  
"Then that kid was his as well!"  
  
"Possibly? What difference does it make?" Furborough's anger began to rise as Waters' stepped further away from him. "Don't go all prissy on me now, you little prat!" His voice boomed through the crowd drawing peculiar looks from the cram of people about them, but Waters continued to shake his head and raise his hands as if to rid himself of any responsibility of the Englishman's actions.  
  
"I'm not taking the fall for this! For you or anyone! I was under O'Connell's command in Syria and I don't plan getting on the wrong side of him... especially over this!"  
  
The Private turned his back and pushed his way through the crowd, gladly leaving Corporal Furborough to his own amusement. Whether or not he would report the matter was still undecided. The events of the afternoon held too much over his own head to simply go blurting out all the horrid details! Besides, he needed to consider the pros and cons of truth telling before any safe decision could be made. Haris Furborough was shouting, unsuccessfully attempting to force himself through the crowd in pursuit of Waters. "Ya bleedin' toe-rag! Come back 'ere!" Amusingly, it occured to Waters that if the over confident Haris had any idea of how heavily he was tipping the scales against himself in this decision, he would shut up here and now!  
  
Stiff with fury, Furborough cursed repeatedly then shoved a fruit monger to the ground in a fit of rage. A fierce growl lurked in his throat as he watched Waters fade into the crowd and he kicked a basket spilling fruit over the prone vendor and onto the road. He turned away without a word of apology and stepped over the chaos he had created. Neil Waters could be dealt with later. Right now, Corporal Furborough was going to pursue his orignal quarry and fry the lesser fish later.  
  
~~~~  
  
The still healing injury to his leg prevented Rick summoning the speed he required to keep pace with the old woman's minders. The effort it took simply to reach Alex before he wandered onto the middle of the road had already created a further mischief to his wound. He felt something give at least ten yards before he held his son safely. Now, as he pressed a hand over his thigh attempting to counteract the throbbing with pressure, he felt the hot flow of blood seeping through his trousers and the wound began stinging, irritated by the material. The thought crossed his mind that this could be a wasted, painful effort if all he found at the end was an old upturned cart with an even more ancient female trapped beneath a mountain of cabbages. On the other hand, he considered it might be a blessing if he did.  
  
After six or seven narrow turns through the alley, he at last caught sight of the men about fifty feet ahead of him. Three stood staring down at a fourth man who was hunkered beside a pathetic form lying all too still in the shadows. O'Connell was forced to stop momentarily for the sake of his injury and stole an inspection of his now blood soaked leg. There was nothing to be done for that right now, but a foreboding sense of fear tinged with guilt caused him to delay in stepping any closer to the scene ahead of him. He could hear Jonathan approaching from around the corner, his exagerated moaning preceeding him, and it sounded as though the old cart-woman was not far behind. The thought of enduring her ten to the dozen high pitched histrionics and Jonathan's hypochondria made the decision for him. Pushing aside trepidation, O'Connell swallowed and moved carefully forward.  
  
At first it was difficult clearly make out anything other than it was a woman lying slumped and battered on the cobblestones. However, each step revealed more of what appeared to be a murder! There was no immediate sign of life from this disguarded body and he was already refusing to believe it could be Evelyn!  
  
He stopped and concealed himself in the shadows. Common sense was telling him to spare his leg and seek treatment, whereas his heart was warning of a tragedy too great to face if he kept walking. It couldn't be her! Not left to the rats in a dirty back lane of Cairo. Not her! But as fate would have it, any repudiation was quickly erased by a gust of wind tossing Evelyn's hat against his leg then into the shadows and beyond.  
  
"Aaaaaah!" His low groan of recognition emanated from deeper than he would have believed, hurting his chest and throat. He punched his hand into the wall so hard his knuckles scraped and bled. Jonathan rounded the corner with Alex on his hip and the old woman two paces behind. Rick raised a hand to his brother-in-law to halt him. "Stay there!" With his heart pounding in his chest, the ex-Legionnaire slammed one foot in front of the other until he was able to push one of the local men aside and dropped to his knees beside his wife. The blood from his own wound was now flowing freely, mixing with Evelyn's that had stained her dress. He cradled her head in his hands, whispering her name. Her eyes remained shut, her face drained of colour. She was a mess! Covered head to foot in sand and dirt! Wet blood smeared her hands and clothes, her hair looked as though it had been yanked free of it's pins and even her shoes were untied. Desperate for any response no matter how small, he spoke her name again and again, but she remained as she was.  
  
"My God!" Jonathan stood looking over Rick's shoulder, shocked by his sister's appearance. Anger filled the American's eyes when he saw Jonathan still had hold of Alex and demanded he remove the boy quickly. None-the- less, Jonathan did not budge, "Evie?"  
  
"Just get him out of here, Jonathan! Now!"  
  
Evelyn murmured. So quietly, Rick wasn't even sure if he'd really heard her. Then she coughed, once at first, then in a fit as she fought against the sand lodged in her throat. Her husband laughed fleetingly with relief then gently rolled her onto to her side to ease the spasms which closely followed the convulsions in her lungs. Pressing his face against hers, he spoke no louder than a whisper, "I'm sorry, Sweetheart! I'm so sorry! Just breath. It'll be fine." In the same movement, O'Connell lifted his head to search out her brother, "Jonathan!"  
  
"I'm already gone, Rick! Just stay with her and I'll be back as soon as I can!"  
  
END CHAPTER  
  
hi iHtaj musa'adi.la-t a Ht haunik.yalla She needs help.down there.hurry.  
  
Den, Mommints, Ruse, RickEvie4eva, MBooker, Emily, Kim O'Connell, AJMackey...thanks guys! :) Reviews are like air to writers, as you know, and I breathe from yours! You are all lovely, lovely people!  
  
And special thanks to my friend Mommints and to the charming Rachel for their help with the Arabic used here. I hope I got it right. 


	12. When sorrows come, they come not in sing...

No infrigement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough and N.Waters are entities born of my own imagination. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG 13  
  
CHAPTER 12 ~ When sorrows come, they come not in single spies, but in battalions. (Hamlet, Shakespeare)  
  
It seemed to Rick that time had been held in some peculiar form of suspension since Jonathan ran for help. Now, with his family safe within the Fort walls, he stole a glance at his watch and realized only an hour had passed since he fell to his knees beside his unconscious wife. Strange how distorted the world can become when you're trying to swallow your heart while dealing with the consequences of your own misguided pride and strangled anguish!  
  
Nodding his head in thanks to Jonathan, O'Connell suddenly found himself forced to quell an amused grunt at his brother- in-law's response. Jonathan had quickly swapped one nervous posture for another as he held up his hand to ward off the praise, insisting he had done nothing which deserved any special recognition. Once again, Evelyn's brother had proved his salt in a crisis and it was becoming clear to Rick just how much he owed this man. This deceptive, ignoble prankster had again shed his skin to reveal his true worth and had arrived back at Evelyn's side within minutes of them finding her. Whatever he had offered for the car, or whether he had stolen it, Rick was sure he would never know. Jonathan's policy has always been one of 'no questions answered'. It was not surprising either, to find Ross awaiting their arrival outside the fort quarters. This wasn't the first time Rick was left curious as to the extent of Jonathan's connections and he knew it wouldn't be the last. For all his shades of gray, Jonathan was first and foremost Evelyn's brother and Rick could not think of a single time when he had let her down. Looking over at Jonathan staring anxiously into space, Rick felt a sense of shame wash over him as he realized it was difficult to shower himself with the same praise.  
  
Jonathan tilted his glass slightly towards Rick in a languid fashion and commented dryly, "We seem to be drowning our sorrows quite regularly with this stuff of late."  
  
Rick twisted his own glass, "Humph!" Instead of drinking it, he turned his gaze towards the bedroom door. The rich liquid continued to roll back and forth in the glass as he pondered, "You know what I can't take right now?"  
  
"Being jolted back to your senses?"  
  
The American placed his drink on the thick armrest and treated that statment with the scornful look it deserved. He leaned forward and dragged his hands over his face, firmly rubbing the tips of his fingers into his eyes. He released a deep, frustrated growl before speaking, "Being made to sit here and wait! Not knowing what Ross is promising to keep quiet!"  
  
"Will it matter any?" Jonathan lowered his eyes and stared at his shoes, "We both know the truth."  
  
Rick remained painfully silent. Alex slept in the cot beside his chair and he reached over to stroke the boys head, lightly tangling his fingers in his son's blonde locks. Without taking his eyes from the boy, he answered Jonathan with a deliberate calm, "All I need is a name."  
  
"I take it from your shared history together, our diligent Dr. Campbell won't provide you with that in case you end up digging a nice big hole for yourself. In all truth Rick, I doubt Evie would tell you for the same reason."  
  
"Maybe." This time Rick looked his brother-in-law directly in the eye, "But she'll tell you."  
  
~~~  
  
Haris Furborough sat in the semi-shade offered by the tattered awning of the backstreet brothel, watching a few of his fellow Legionnaires hawking their meagre belongings to the locals. Behind them, the remainder of the Regiment continued dismantling their tents in preparation for the move North. There was less than four hours now before they left Cairo and he was feeling the first tinges of disappointment that O'Connell had not called him to task over that little wench.  
  
He glanced in the direction of Fort Brydon, catching sight of it's corner towers above the line of roof tops and smirked. Dropping his eyes to street level, he squinted against the glare but saw no sign of the man he waited for. He scoffed, then swallowed another mouthful of rum. Perhaps his victory was complete after all? He envisioned the boney girl still crawling about on all fours somewhere behind a cemetary wall and O'Connell too lame from his injury to set about searching for her. It was all too easy!  
  
A thought tempted him of seeking out the ex-Legionnaire, catching him unawares and finishing what had started between them weeks ago. However, he was shaken from his murderous cogitation by one of the brothel's beauties as she sashayed by him and perched herself against the table. Furborough ignored her bluntly and strained his neck to see around her. The girl leaned in for attention only to be shoved backwards with the force of his hand. "Just bring the booze, slut! I've never had to pay for my pleasures...and I don't intend to start now!"  
  
The girl swung her arm to slap him and he grabbed it fiercely, twisting her wrist and bringing her to her knees with the pain. She struggled vainly against his grip, all the while his cocky laugh settled too closely to her cheek. He hung over her as he forced her lower against the dirt. She squealed! Cursing and crying, he took malicious delight in her distreess until he was pulled to his feet by the back of his hair! The stinging at the base of his neck automatically severed his grip on the girl and a cacophony of shrieks and abuse followed as Haris was shoved, staggering into the street. Once he found his feet, the Legionnaire turned and reached for his pistol but stopped at the sight of three burly men, each brandishing hooked daggers which reflected the glints of the sun. Outnumbered by the harlot's security, Furborough spread his fingers wide over his pistol's handle and extended his arm wide to show he had not drawn his weapon. He sneered at the men, then saw a sly look of satisfaction on the girls face and spat in her direction. This earned him another growling advance from her minders and Furborough spread both arms to signify an angry surrender and slowly turned his back to walk away.  
  
~~~  
  
"Go in 'n' see ya sister." Ross anounced wearily to Jonathan. He had emerged into the sitting room still wiping his hands on a small white towel, but looked directly at neither Rick nor Jonathan.  
  
"Me?" Jonathan shot a look of surprise to O'Connell before standing, "First?"  
  
"I'm only the messenger. It's you she's asked for."  
  
Jonathan hesitated but Rick waved him on. This is more or less what he had expected. Seeing Jonathan first was probably less threatening for her and it required fewer answers. He could understand that, right now, a brother's shoulder was safer to cling to than a husband's. "It's alright Jonathan. Go see how she is." As Carnahan retreated to his sister, Rick did manage to catch a glimpse of his wife buried beneath the covers before the door clicked shut. She had her faced turned away, effectively hiding any trace of emotion and he had at least hoped to catch her eye. But the moment passed too quickly and he trained his vision on Ross' grave face.  
  
The world weary doctor kept his hands locked firmly together behind his back and paced slowly towards the window. Holding his back to O'Connell, Ross spoke in a voice low and serious. For Rick, the news was just as he had anticipated...and worse. Without the use of shock or spectacle, Dr. Campbell delivered each and every fact of Evelyn's trauma and condition. Just as Evelyn's initial preference of Jonathan over himself was not really a surprise, neither was hearing definate confirmation of her rape. It didn't take a doctor to know from sight what had happened. Still, terrible as this news was, it didn't so much fuel Rick's lust for revenge than it reinforced it. It was what followed that caused the ex-Legionnaire to hurl his glass across the room! The tiny vessel shattered into a thousand pieces staining the wall with alcohol and stirring Alex into a fit of tears. For an instant Rick looked helplessly at his small son, torn between comforting him and the fear of his own sorrow if he did. He found himself unable to do nothing but pace short steps while his hand switched from rubbing his mouth to dropping down in a tight fist and back again! He looked again at Alex and saw Ethan! Tiny Ethan! Little more than a month in his grave, yet he would be his last. He could hear Ross droning in the distance about the prolonged, brutal attack on Evelyn, each word a dagger! Her still frail state after the birth combined with this had ruined her! She had been robbed of all her, their, unborn children and even now her own well-being was in jeopardy! His body tensed and knotted! His breath came in short bursts and his chest felt as though it would collapse. There were no words for rage such has his! There was no punishment that would compensate this crime...but there was one which would satisfy!  
  
Still on his feet and pacing, Rick looked at the closed bedroom door trying desperately to see through it. He started long strides towards his wife but was abruptly halted by Ross' hand to his shoulder which swung him about sharply! "Not now, son. Not yet."  
  
Rick growled. He dragged his hands down his face, revealing to Ross a twisted expression of anger and confusion. He snatched his guns from their hook behind the door and demanded of Ross, "WHO?!!"  
  
Helping himself to the whisky to avoid O'Connell's stare, Ross answered cautiously, "I don't know."  
  
"Dammit, Ross! She must have told you something!"  
  
Turning fully to his friend, Ross paced words slowly and clearly, "Look! She's no fool! She knows exactly what ya'll do if told; and exactly what'll happen if ya do it!"  
  
Rick favoured his injured leg the few paces it took for him to reach the doctor's side. His hands shook furiously as he poured himself another drink, then another. When he'd drained the glass a second time, he eyed Ross intently, "I know anyway!"  
  
Knowing his friend of old too well, Ross sighed heavily and walked to the window where he stood staring into the street below. The crime against O'Connell's wife was an abominable one and the doctor couldn't bring himself to begrudge the American his revenge. If the truth be told, he hadn't expected anything less from his younger friend. Ross began to speak steadily, "Well, if it be that same bloke we dragged in off t'street alongside you those weeks back, then it'd be best if ya shake that useless leg of yours and find him quicksmart!" Ross turned, facing O'Connell with acceptance of what he was about to do, "The Legion is pulling up camp as we speak. It's my guess they'll be away by dawn tomorrow."  
  
Grateful for Ross' leave, Rick heaved a breath before speaking, "You know I can't let this go."  
  
"Aye. It would seem that way. But do me one favour."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Shoot from a distance, would ya!" The stout doctor waved a furious hand at O'Connell's freshly opened wound and chided him, "It's obvious ya haven't taken one iota of notice 'bout what I've told ya 'bout lookin' after that leg of yours! If ya make it any worse than it is now I'm gonna amputate the bloody thing! Got it!"  
  
Unable to stop a small smile creeping over his lips, Rick pushed his last gun firmly into it's holster and acknowledged his friend's offhand advice, "Got it!"  
  
Just before O'Connell disappeared into the hall, Ross called after him, "Do it quickly!"  
  
Without a hint of hesitation, Rick looked over his shoulder before vanishing, "No!"  
  
The door closed and Ross again retreated to the window waiting to see the American make his way onto the street. He watched as O'Connell walked from view, knowing he wouldn't look up to see if he was watching. The cantankerous boy had always been lurking just below the surface of the man, but this time he had set out with good reason. He also knew he would have to wait until Rick returned from this grisly business and then he would have to hide him from the hangman's noose.  
  
But first, he needed someone to quiet this child!  
  
~~~  
  
"Stay put. I'll go and see what the matter is." Jonathan pressed a gentle hand to his sister's shoulder to quash her determined, yet feeble attempt to get out of bed. "I'm sure everything's fine."  
  
"Rick knows!" Pushing her cheek into the pillow unable to quell a flood of emotion, Evelyn sobbed, "I'm sure he knows!"  
  
"Now, now. He probably just fell over that gammy leg of his and knocked something down and woken Alex. It'll be fine."  
  
His offer of solace did nothing to soothe his sister's panic, and his heart split clean down the middle when she succumbed to another coughing fit. Jonathan leaned over her and gently stroked her back until the attack subsided, wondering how on earth she would even begin to recover from this. The last few months had been too tragic for words, and now this! He kept his hand pressed on her back and whispered, "It'll all work out, Evie. You'll see." She squeezed her eyes shut and Jonathan looked away to battle the tears which now threatened him. He rose slowly and crept towards the door. Poking his head through the narrow gap he had allowed himself, he found only the Yorkshireman hopelessly bouncing a red-faced, screaming Alex on his knee. "Need any help out here?"  
  
Ross barked instantly, "Not with shoving that sarcasm straight back down ya throat, I don't! But if ya be any better at silencin' this beast than I am, step up now before I find a potion to knock 'im out!"  
  
Careful not to open the door any further than necessary, Jonathan angled himself into the room and clicked the door shut. "Where's his father?" he whispered.  
  
Ross held the boy out at arm's length and stepped back immediately once his fellow Englishman took control of the situation. The child ceased his noise almost instantly and Ross scoffed in disbelief at the youngster's sudden change of disposition!  
  
Settling Alex's head over his shoulder, Jonathan whispered a little louder, "Where's Rick?"  
  
Still staggered by the child's reaction, Ross looked appreciatively at his glass and swilled another mouthful before answering. The warming brew revealed it's pleasure through a grimace, "Aah!" Badly disguising a scowl at the toddler, Ross straightened himself and said, "He's stepped out."  
  
"Stepped out?!"  
  
"Lower your voice, man!" Both men listened for any sound from Evelyn's room before Ross continued, "He's gone to claim his pound of flesh."  
  
"So you told him after all?"  
  
"Not that he didn't already know the most of it!"  
  
Jonathan shifted Alex on his shoulder and pressed the doctor further, "So what do I say to Evie if she asks for him?"  
  
"Has she asked for him?"  
  
"No, but..."  
  
"Then don't worry til she does!"  
  
Jonathan shook his head in exasperation, "She's bound to start asking for him soon! Or at least asking about him."  
  
Setting his glass on the table, Ross patted Jonathan on the shoulder, "With any luck she'll sleep soon. It's possible he'll be back before she wakes up." The doctor began to lower himself into the chair then stopped himself to ask, "Does Mrs. O'Connell need help, or was it just the..." he wiggled a finger in Alex's direction and Jonathan finished the thought for him.  
  
"No, no. It was just Alex crying. I'll take him back in with me, shall I?"  
  
"Please do."  
  
"I take it you'll be waiting here until Rick gets back?"  
  
"I 've a feelin' I'll be here most of the night! And beyond!"  
  
Jonathan nodded solemly before taking the few short steps to Evelyn's door. Reaching for the handle, he stopped and offered his thoughts to Ross. "You know he'll probably never admit it, but he appreciates everything you've done. And me as well." he winked at the doctor, "Not bad for a Yorkshireman."  
  
"Be off with ya! And pray he gets out of this one better than he did the last!"  
  
A knowing look settled in Jonathan's eyes and he stepped silently into the bedroom.  
  
Evelyn lifted her head as he entered and held her arms out for Alex. Jonathan tilted and placed the boy gently beside her and they immediately clung to each other. Evelyn quickly slipped into the safe and familiar role of comforting her son, hushing him and stroking the back of his head. Jonathan watched, amazed and a little relieved, as he saw his sister willfully hide her own despair under a blanket of concern for her son. It was apparent to him that she would remain in this temporary shelter as long as it was afforded to her, and he couldn't blame her for that. It was respite, no matter how small.  
  
Still wrapped in each other's warmth, mother and son closed their eyes and Jonathan deftly slipped himself into a chair to keep watch as they slept.  
  
end chapter  
  
REVIWERS: AJMackey, Angel Ruse, MBooker, RickEvie4eva, Mommints, Lady Evie, Eviefan and Den. Thankyou so much. This is becoming a rather difficult but challenging subject to write about and your comments really inspire me to keep going. I'm going to have to do a very fluffy, sugar-filled, sickening romance to recover from this, I can see it. (Just kidding) hehe ;) Now, onto the fight...who will bleed this time??? 


	13. Murder On His Mind

No infrigement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough and N.Waters are entities born of my own imagination. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG 13  
  
CHAPTER 13 ~ Murder On His Mind  
  
Inside the confined safety of Fort Brydon, Ross Campbell continued to wait. All was silent bar the steady ticking of the clock on the mantle. It had been just over an hour since Rick went to deliver his own brand of justice for the profane attack on his young wife which, for Ross, was too much time to be left pondering on the outcome of what he believed to be a one-sided confrontation. He shuffled anxiously in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position given the state of mind he was in. This was worrying business indeed! Ross was never a man of superstition, he believed in facts and plain opinion. And today, he believed the odds stood heavily against the ex- Captain O'Connell.  
  
He had seen and treated both men concerned in this duel and he couldn't help but believe that O'Connell's injury left him decidedly disadvantaged. If it happened that Rick was unable to find him alone, it didn't bear thinking about the state in which he would return, if at all! No matter how he turned it over, Ross just couldn't see an easy victory for his friend.  
  
Jonathan crept into the room, carefully pulling his sister's door shut. Catching Ross' eye, he stretched and pressed his hands into his lower back. "She's sleeping soundly now. I know I should probably stay until she wakes up but I just needed to stretch my legs."  
  
Ross brightened somewhat, grateful for any company. Even Jonathan's! "While she sleeps, she won't dwell on other matters."  
  
"No sign of Rick yet I take it."  
  
"Not a word. I'm not so sure if that's a good sign or not." The doctor motioned towards the whisky but Jonathan declined the offer. Ross grunted mildly, "Aye, perhaps ya right. Seems time for nowt but waitin'."  
  
~~~  
  
Furborough was in a black mood! It was an affront being thrown to the ground by those heathens and the insult stung his narcissistic pride. His mind fumed with rage as wandered the streets with no clear destination, 'What, in the name of Hell, gives them the right to think they can manhandle one of the King's subjects in that manner?' He considered the brothel girl worthless; she certainly didn't merit the indignant price he'd paid, 'Would serve 'em right if I burned the place to the ground on my way out of the city gates!'  
  
He found himself approaching the Fort walls and stopped to consider the guards patroling the grounds. He grunted, turning his head to spit. He wasn't stupid enough to believe he could march straight in and challenge O'Connell face to face amid such security. There seemed nothing for it. O'Connell either didn't know, or didn't care! Furborough turned sharply on his heel and made his way back to the Legion's camp.  
  
~~~  
  
With no real idea of where to begin looking, Rick made his way to the most obvious starting point ... the Legion Camp. He looked into the face of every Westerner as he walked, practically daring Furbrough to present himself. Then without warning, he was grabbed by the shoulder and spun about! Instantly he drew a pistol and aimed it at the head of his hindrance!  
  
"DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT!"  
  
It only took a second to recognize Emir and release the hammer of the gun, but even after O'Connell had lowered the weapon the odd, lanky Egyptian still stood surprised with his hands in the air while his heart thumped through his chest!  
  
"Nerves are not a recommeded quality in our line of business, O'Connell." Emir stepped away cautiously and caught his breath, "It's a clear sign that you have something to hide!"  
  
"I thought you were somebody else." That was all the apology Rick offered before holstering the gun and continuing on his way. However, Emir was less than satisfied and grabbed his shoulder, hampering his leave and swining him back to face him.  
  
"Well now you see that it's me, O'Connell. And I have a message for you."  
  
Rick didn't even bother to hide his annoyance, "A message from who?"  
  
"Nasser will wait for you no longer than tonight. He says any later and the deal's off."  
  
"Well then I guess it's off. Tell him sorry, but I've got more pressing matters. Maybe next time."  
  
Emir cried with frustration, "Noooo! Noooo! You are the one with the contact! I need to be paid! I must!"  
  
Rick groaned and lowered his head in thought. If what Ross had said about the camp pulling up was true, then it shouldn't take too long to hunt down Furborough, even if he stood and waited to knock him off his horse. Looking again at his clearly desperate companion, Rick relented somewhat reluctantly, "Sure. Tell him sometime tonight."  
  
"You will promise this!?"  
  
"Yeah. But it'll be late. Around midnight."  
  
Emir wanted to feel relieved but he couldn't shake the doubt he felt in O'Connell's pledge. His release of O'Connel's arm was a loathsome one and he repeated flatly, "Midnight then."  
  
As Emir stepped away he cast one final glance at the weapons his friend carried then met his eyes with an uneasy, suspicious flicker. O'Connell noticed, and as Emir merged into the crowd he caught himself slipping into uncertainty about his thirst for blood. He still hadn't had the opportunity to speak with Evelyn apart from a few whispered words of reassurance as he held onto her in the back seat of the car as Jonathan drove them from the ally to the Fort. She was so shaken and barely conscious that she probably wouldn't remember any of what he said. He knew for certain that if he was caught today he would end up in an eight foot cell waiting to hang. Any stupid move now would leave his wife a widow and his son fatherless, but at least it sent Furborough six feet under. The toe of his boot connected heavily with the dirt and he swore at the pain of his impulsive act and the frustation of his situation. He wasn't any good to them dead but he couldn't let that bastard walk away either. There had to be another way!  
  
The flash of a white uniform in the corner of his eye alerted his attention. He turned sharply, ready to jump the soldier before realizing it wasn't the man he was looking for, merely a young unfamiliar Private making his way back to the camp with his arms full of blankets. O'Connell smiled at the memory of himself stocking up on such essentials to combat the severe cold of a desert night. Suddenly the answer presented itself! Quick stepping to catch up, O'Connell introduced himself and accompanied the Private on his walk back to camp.  
  
~~~  
  
The bottle of rum was the only compensation Furborough had managed to grab out of that debacle at the brothel. A small victory ...and a short-lived one. He tipped the bottle to his mouth receiving only a trickle of the brew and hurled it against a wall watching it shatter. "Even the bloody grog's run out!" his anger slurred only slightly from his lips and he was fed-up with walking. He settled himself on returning to the camp and sleeping until called upon to move. He thought once more on O'Connell and laughed. Rest was looking good.  
  
~~~  
  
Once at the camp, Rick was a little disappointed to part company with the young soldier. He saw a lot of himself in the boy and wished him well. He laid a friendly hand to his shoulder and asked, "Who's your Commander?"  
  
"That would be Trigg, sir. The General de Brigade." The young Legionnaire laughed at his poor pronounciation of the French ranking.  
  
"Trigg?" Now there's a name that brought back memories. "He's a General now?"  
  
"Yes sir. Do you know him?"  
  
"Better than what's probably good for both of us. Where can I find him?"  
  
"It's the big tent." The Private pointed beyond Rick, "Down there."  
  
Taking his leave, Rick waved the boy off, "Thanks. And good luck!"  
  
"And to you, sir."  
  
Making his way through the organized mess of disassembled tents and animals, Rick wondered just how long it had been since he had been a part of all this. Four years? Perhaps five? Either one, it didn't really matter. It all seemed like another lifetime.  
  
He found the Trigg's tent and grinned with a mixture of satisfaction and reminiscence. Without introduction, he threw back the flap, ducked his head and entered.  
  
Andrew Trigg sat with his head down scribbling a note of some sort, not bothering to look up. Obviously assuming his intruder was someone else, he made mundane enquiries about the Regiment's progress with the disassembly of the camp.  
  
The jumble of belongings inside the tent betrayed everything Rick remembered of his Legionnaire friend, "You'd think now that they've made you a General you'd have someone to clear up this mess for you?"  
  
Instantly recognizing the voice, Trigg turned to welcome his one-time comrade with open arms. Stepping up to him, he pulled Rick into a firm embrace, laughing with the surprise of seeing him. The ex- Legionnaire returned the gesture, truly happy to see him once more.  
  
"Pity you've arrived so late. As you can see, we're on the move again."  
  
"If I had have known it was you leading this band of misfits I would have darkened your doorstep weeks ago."  
  
"Ah, I see." Trigg motioned Rick to chair before perching himself on the edge of his battered desk, "So there's a reason for your visit."  
  
Refusing the offer to sit, Rick took a leap of faith on his friendship with Trigg and got straight to the point. "I wish it could be a helluva better reason to meet up with you again, but it's not. I'm here for one of your men!"  
  
"I see. Mind telling me what for?"  
  
Without so much as a sigh, Rick looked Trigg in the eye and began speaking, "Two years ago I ran into Verdi. Remember him?"  
  
Trigg nodded with a distasteful groan,  
  
"Yeah? He held me accountable for desertion! But instead of turning me in, he struck a bargain with me." Trigg was listening intently as O'Connell continued with a hint of shame tinging his words, "I agreed to lead him and his Regiment safely through the mountains to Damascus."  
  
Listening with his arms folded across his chest, Trigg enquired seriously, "And what was the price if you refused?"  
  
"My wife's safety."  
  
The General leaned back, shaking his head, "If this has to do with Verdi you're out of luck. He died ten months ago. That's why I've got command now."  
  
"Well I can't say I'm sorry to hear that, but it's not Verdi that I want. It's Furborough."  
  
'Furborough!" Trigg almost sounded pleased, but considering the loyalty he owed to his men he couldn't just hand the man over to O'Connell without knowing why. "No doubt he deserves it, but you'll have to tell me what he's done before I let you go ten rounds with him."  
  
"I don't want to fight him, Trigg. I want him dead!"  
  
The Officer balked at O'Connell's demand. He lifted himself from the desk and raised his hands to ward his fellow American off. "Now you're outta line, O'Connell!"  
  
"He raped my wife! He left her beaten up and bleeding in some rat infested ally and I want him dead!"  
  
A serious look descended over Trigg's face and his eyes dropped to the floor. He stepped slowly back to his desk before asking, "When did this happen?"  
  
"Today."  
  
Thinking carefully before speaking, Trigg again shook his head and offered his words with empathy, "I know how you're feeling, Rick, trust me. But I can't just hand him over to you. It's impossible."  
  
"Dammit Trigg! You owe me!" Rick moved in close, furiously refreshing his friend's memory, "It wasn't that long ago we bent the rules in Lybia that night in order for you to figure out if you loved her or just got a better deal than the rest of us! Trigg turned his face away only to be forced to face O'Connell again when he was grabbed by the shoulder. "What was her name, Annie, Abby, Amy .... four Legionnaires against twelve harem thugs? And we won, didn't we?"  
  
"Come on, O'Connell!" Trigg broke himself free of Rick's grip by shoving his arm away. "This is different and you know it! We were young and foolish! You're standing here now asking me to give you leave to kill a man!"  
  
"She's my WIFE!" The rage in O'Connell was at it's height, "He took her, now he pays MY price!" Trigg stood staring...silent and knowing, "You owe me this, Andrew. You can allow another Officer to do swift justice when an atrocity has been committed. We both know what the rules are!"  
  
Screwing his face in reluctance, Trigg sadly spoke the obvious, "You're not an Officer anymore."  
  
"The hell I'm not!" Rick snatched the paper Trigg had been writing on and held it roughly, crumpling the page between his fingers, "Who are you writing to, Andrew? Do I know her?"  
  
Trigg set his mind back seven years to that brawl in Lybia. He was stupid enough to do anything to free her back then and he knew the same would hold true today. Looking at O'Connell he saw the very same determination and rage that once drove him. His mind conceded. Reaching over, he calmly removed the paper from his friends grasp and set it back down on the desk, "We've come a long way you and me." Holding a silent, thoughtful pause, Trigg slowly raised his eyes and sighed, "If you can find him you can have him." Sharply pointing a finger at O'Connell he warned, "And this makes us even, got it?!"  
  
'Thank you' didn't seem like the appropriate response but Rick felt the sentiment none-the-less. He nodded, slapping Trigg on the shoulder, "Maybe under better circumstances next time, hey."  
  
"Yes...next time." Trigg shook O'Connell's hand then noticed his leg. "Is that wound going to hold you back?"  
  
Moving to the tent's flap, Rick rubbed a hand over his injured thigh as he ducked down to leave, "No. This is what's gonna drive me on!" He cast a stoic look over his shoulder, ducked his head and disappeared through the opening.  
  
Trigg looked at the crumpled paper in his hand then shouted for his Corporal. Within moments, Trigg's second in command was standing at attention before him. "Don't be surprised if there's one less man on your head count when leave Cairo."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Holding his hands behind his back, Trigg moved around the desk then faced his Corporal with the ease of a Commanding Officer, "This Regiment may well depart with one less soldier, Corporal. No questions, no answers. Just do the head count and give me the numbers."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
With his subordinate dismissed, Trigg sat down at his desk and took up his pen. Pressing his hand across the page to straighten out the creases he resumed his letter home, ...you are my dearest, Amy. I miss you more and more. It's longer than I care to admit since I've been home....  
  
~~~  
  
As he walked away from Trigg's tent, Rick stopped to look around. He wondered how he and Trigg had ended up travelling such different paths only to reach the same destination. And he was a General, no less! Rick deeply inhaled the Cairo air and offered up a single humourless laugh. Their journeys may have been world's apart but deep down he knew he could rely on Trigg not to go back on his word. Officers aside, they were both cut from the same cloth.  
  
He wished he had more time. The last thing he wanted was to have to shanghai Furborough from his Company and seek his justice before one of the largest Regiments in the Legion. As well, his leg was bothersome. Ross had mended it as well as he had allowed and although the bleeding had stopped, the ache was a constant reminder that he was going into this fight less fit than Furborough. He remembered the fleeting glimpse he saw of Evelyn before Jonathan closed the door. Even though her back was turned he could tell she had her face buried in the pillow, too ashamed to open her eyes. He touched a hand to his thigh then stood to his full height. His lips thin and determined, he resumed walking.  
  
From his left he was bumped by a hasty soldier not looking where he was going. Rick kept his balance...just, but the Legionnaire lost his footing and hit the ground hard. Rick pulled him up by the arm and the boy dusted down his coat before raising his eyes to his assistant. The shock of seeing O'Connell's face sent the boy into a nervous stutter and he tried to pull away uselessly. A satisfied glint settled in Rick's eyes, one corner of his mouth ever so slightly curving upward, "Waters. Neil, isn't it?" There was no response as Waters swallowed loudly, still trapped in his ex-Commanding Officer's grip. "You seem to scurry about everywhere,don't ya?"  
  
"I...I...don't know wh...what you mean?"  
  
"No? Well let me explain." Still with an iron grip about Waters' arm, O'Connell lifted him just high enough for him to keep one foot on the ground and spoke so close to his face that Waters' could feel his breath. "You and I have a common friend, Neil. And you're gonna tell me where I can find him."  
  
"Who?" Waters had hardly uttered the word before he yelped in pain at the tightening pressure on his arm. Struggling was proving pointless, it only made O'Connell squeeze tighter. The Private looked painfully at O'Connell and decided to end his predicament, "Alright." Alas, the American only clamped his fingers harder and this time Waters released a squeal loud enough to catch the attention of those nearby, "I said alright!!"  
  
Rick allowed him to stand on both feet again, but maintained his grip. "So where is he?"  
  
Glancing between O'Connell's face and the hand clenched about his arm, Waters gulped before speaking, "If you mean Corporal Furborough, then I haven't seen him since last night!" Waters was not without guile and if Furborough was about to take a fall, he was doing it alone. "Don't know where his is now."  
  
"You lie really badly. Did anyone ever tell you that?" Waters was back on one foot and much too close to O'Connell's face, "Try again!"  
  
"N..no..I mean it. I..I..haven't seen him."  
  
Still forcibly staring into O'Connell's eyes, the nervous Waters sensed his captor reaching for something from his belt. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow as he felt O'Connell raise his free hand and Waters closed his eyes. "Maybe this will help?"  
  
Neil Waters slit his eyes open and saw two high currency notes. He laughed with a nervous relief. It wasn't a gun after all, it was money! O'Connell was bribing him! He reached for the cash but it was pulled quickly out of reach.  
  
"Tell me where he is?"  
  
"Don't know for sure." Ridiculously, the gullable boy was still trying to rest both feet on the ground without losing site of the money O'Connell flashed before him, "But I know the places he likes. You'd have to follow me."  
  
"Suits me." Rick instantly screwed the money into his fist and replaced it in his pocket and grinned wickedly at his pidgeon, "I don't pay for anything until I get the goods." With that, he released Waters with a shove, sending him stumbling in the direction of the Camp's exit. As the boy found his feet, O'Connell slapped him sharply on the shoulder in a mock gesture of friendship and quipped, "You and me are gonna get along just fine!"  
  
end chapter  
  
A/N: Hehehe, seems as though this story is turning into 'Old Home Week' for Rick!!  
  
Hey! Thanks for all those cool reviews! I don't know if I should apologize for shocking everyone or not. You see, I wasn't expecting such a reaction as I thought everyone had worked it out in Chapter 11. Oh well, nothing like a good gasp to get your heart started!! Muahahahaha!! ;) I send my thanks to AJMackey (even though she said not to) but she dug me out of a hole with the suggestion of the An(drew) Trigg scene and it really helped to budge my block. And to Ruse and Eviefan who both offered good ideas which I incorporated. I appreciate it tremendously. So thank you AJMackey, Ruse, Eviefan, MBooker, Lady-Evie, Den, Mommints and Kim O'Connell. I send you all serene vibes! 


	14. Staring Into Shallow Eyes

No infrigement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough and N.Waters are entities born of my own imagination. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG 13  
  
CHAPTER 14 ~ Staring Into Shallow Eyes  
  
"You'd better not be thinking of taking me on a wild goose chase! With the Company about to move out, he can't be that hard to find!" Rick's voice snarled over Neil Waters' shoulder. The pair had been walking too long for Rick's liking without checking in a single rum hall. It seemed that Waters had embarked on a random stroll around Cairo, foolishly showing no sign that he was looking for anyone in particular, let alone Haris Furborough! The heat and the hard streets were taking their toll on his injury and Rick wanted to spare his leg as much as possible. It was hurting more than he would admit. A consistent dull ache that only added to his already enraged mood.  
  
Waters' eyes never met O'Connell's as he spoke in case they gave him away. "I can't just conjure him up out of thin air, you know! He could be anywhere!" The Legionnaire was reluctant to lead O'Connell to Furborough, but not for the sake of his Corporal. He was more afraid for his own safety should Furborough reveal his presence at this morning's attack on Mrs. O'Connell! There would be no time to run, nor to explain, but he couldn't see a way out of it. O'Connell wasn't going to let him procrastinate any longer and he knew for sure that Furborough wouldn't keep his mouth shut once confronted. Just seeing him as O'Connell's guide would probably earn him a bullet! Waters was sweating and agitated. The best he could hope for was a swift recovery!  
  
"How about you head to his favourite watering hole." That low, incensed voice in his ear made Waters' gut churn. O'Connell seemed to engulf him even though he wasn't that much taller and the grip he placed on his shoulder pinched a nerve that made his whole arm ache. Still avoiding eye contact, Waters nodded nervously and began backtracking towards a windowless shopfront some forty yards back. In his mind he tried to play out any and all possible routes of escape and he could have groaned aloud when O'Connell perked sarcastically, "See how it all comes back to you with a little encouragement."  
  
~~~  
  
Jonathan struggled urgently from his chair and hobbled towards Evelyn's door the instant he heard her scream. With Ross hot on his heels, he thrust open the door to find his sister furiously kicking at the covers trying to scramble off the bed. Alex had been woken by the commotion and he too was beginning to squeal in fright.  
  
Lifting the boy away from his mother's panic, Jonathan did his best to calm the child while Ross rounded the bed and grabbed hold of Evelyn by the shoulders. "It's a nightmare, Lass! Nowt more!"  
  
With Alex on his hip, still shrieking, Jonathan moved into her view and echoed Ross' persuasion. "It's alright Evie!" He placed a soft hand to her chin and smiled encouragingly, "You're in your own room. I'm here, Alex is here. Everything's fine."  
  
Sitting with her back pressed hard against the bedhead, Evelyn's eyes slowly lost that terrified stare and she raised one timid, shaking hand to her face to awkwardly swipe at her wet cheeks. Taking short, frightened breaths, she purposely looked about the room before lowering her shoulders and slowly allowing herself to sink into an uncertain lull.  
  
The terror of her dream had afforded her swift and painless mobility, but now that she was properly awake it was really quite difficult to slide herself beneath the covers without a sharp pain clouding each movement. She groaned awfully from the effort, yet instantly pulled away from Ross when he leaned over her to lend a hand.  
"There's no need for panic." The Doctor soothed, once again offering to gently steer her movements. This time she allowed it, even though she trembled as soon as he cautiously placed a hand to her back. "Just helpin' ya get comfortable. We can't have ya getting all out of sorts over a bad dream now, can we?" Ross placed a pillow under her head and pulled up the blankets, nodding satisfactorily as she sank into the comfort. As he moved away from the bed, Evelyn reached her arms towards her brother beckoning for her child. She pulled him in close, burying his head beneath her chin and the boy immediately began to settle.  
  
"Where's Rick?" she whispered.  
  
Jonathan looked to Ross for advice only to be met by a dubious shrug from the doctor. Fumbling for an answer, Jonathan's words literally fell from his lips unsure of where they were going to lead. "Well, seeing as you were'nt ready to see him just yet, he thought it best if he stayed outside until you called for him." It was lie offered with the best of intentions and Evelyn seemed to accept it silently. Then for reasons unknown to himself, Jonathan added, "Of course if you like, I could call him in for you?" Ross grunted his disapproval at Jonathan's impulsive offer but the Englishman simply waved him off. "Evie?"  
  
Without opening her eyes, Evelyn pressed herself closer to Alex and whispered so quietly Jonathan had to strain his head to hear, "No. Soon, but not now."  
  
"Alright. That's fine. He's out there whenever you want him. All you have to do is call." Jonathan screwed his face at Ross' amazed, silent protest and motioned with his arm for him to stop. The good doctor shook his head disapprovingly, thoroughly relieved that Evelyn declined rather than call her idiot brother's bluff!  
  
Minutes passed as both brother and doctor watch Evelyn settle and drift back to sleep. As soon as he thought it safe to do so, Ross chided Jonathan in a coarse whisper, "An' just what exactly, were ya plannin' on doin' if she'd asked for him?!"  
  
"You know Ross." Jonathan stood straight, shaking his finger assuredly, "For a man as worldly as yourself, you're very easily thrown askew by women and small children!"  
  
Ross scowled and marched around the bed to face Jonathan, "Look 'ere ya annoyin' little prat! T'was a thin line t'be walkin' back there. T'was damn lucky for all of us that she decided against bringin' him in!"  
  
"Yes well, it paid off. It's all water under the bridge now." Looking quite pleased with himself, Jonathan added, "Besides which, I know my own sister."  
  
Ross glared silently for a moment and decided to continue his scolding outside the room. He directed Jonathan out with a firm hand to his back and pulled the door behind him. As the pair quietly stepped from the room, Evelyn opened her eyes and stared at the closed door. She could hear them bickering in low voices and gently kissed her son's forehead. There was no need to wonder where her husband had gone. As she squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear escaped over the bridge of her nose and trickled onto the pillow. If Rick succeeded this day, then she had turned her husband into a murderer!  
  
~~~  
  
As Neil Waters approached the battered, faceless door, he caught sight of his Corporal not ten yards ahead and walking directly towards them. This was not going to be good! Not good at all! So far O'Connell and Furborough had not seen each other, but it was only a matter of seconds before their paths crossed in what would most likely be for the final time.  
  
Unwittingly, Waters' step faltered bringing him to an abrupt halt. He closed his eyes, murmuring an impassioned plea for help, but it was hopeless. O'Connell pulled up short behind him, barely missing walking into his back and stared at his now pale, sweating features. Slowly shifting his eyes forward, Rick at last saw the man Neil Waters had been praying they would be able to avoid. Waters turned to the ex-Legionnaire and began backing away as he spoke in a low, cracked voice, "This is as far as I go! You're on your own from here."  
  
Waters' anxiety conveyed an undertone which aroused suspicion in O'Connell, who in turn eyed his reluctant companion curiously. "Something bothering you?"  
  
Try as he might, Waters couldn't fine a voice that didn't choke him, "You mean apart from your bullying tactics and the sheer madness in your eyes?"  
  
"Do you even know why I want him?"  
  
"No! And I don't care either!" Waters coughed nervously through his lie, "I can tell he's been drinking and I just don't wanna be around when you two go head to head, that's all! Just let me go, it's nothing to do with me!"  
  
Rick silently studied the Private's face attempting to see beyond the facade. It was only a matter of seconds before he spoke, but for Neil it was seconds too long. O'Connell's eyes darkened and one corner of his mouth twitched upward in a surly grimace. He slapped a firm and steady hand onto Waters' shoulder that insisted he move forward, then snarled "Not yet."  
  
Both men watched as Furborough stepped through the door and slammed it shut behind him. By this stage, Waters was in a panic and demanded his freedom. "You can keep your money, just leave me out of this!"  
  
"Money?" Refusing to release him, Rick steered him forward with deliberate force, "You nervous, Neil? Anything you might have forgotten to tell me?"  
  
Before he could offer any sort of answer, Waters found himself inside the smoke filled room and shuddered at the sound of O'Connell calmly clicking the door shut. Then two sounds less than a second apart signalled his fate and caused his heart to pound through his chest. It was impossible to determine which was more chilling! O'Connell's gun being drawn and primed just above his shoulder, or Furborough's blistering accusation of betrayal when he saw them.  
  
"You slimy little berk! Just what are you playing at?!" Furborough rose so violently to accuse Waters, that his chair clattered to the floor. Rick stood motionless with his gun aimed directly between the rapist's eyes, leaving him with only growling words to deal with the corner he had suddenly found himself in. His eyes burned furiously at Waters making the young Private drop his own gaze to the floor. A myriad of punishments for the boy flashed through the Corporal's mind, some more appealing than others, but that business would wait; protecting his own hide was his main priority!  
  
Furborough's eyes left the sweating Waters and fixed firmly on the face of the American. "Took ya bloody long enough to find me. I was beginning to think you weren't coming."  
  
O'Connell remained quiet, rigidly maintaining a steady aim, however this restrained silence didn't sit well with Furborough. He was a man who enjoyed a contest when it was loud and decisive. This peculiar non-action from O'Connell was agitating and forced him to contemplate things other than the fight. As O'Connell continued taking stock of his quarry, Furborough began searching for an easy passage outside. The only visible door was blocked by the American; and if he turned and ran in search of a surreptitious way out, he knew he would most certainly be shot in the back. His foe's silent stare burned through him and Furborough began to wonder if O'Connell was waiting for an accomplice to creep up from the rear to block any possible esacape. Cautiously moving a hand across his chin, the Corporal at last decided on a measure to force O'Connell's hand, smirking as he spoke, "So, tell me Captain? Are you here to fight for her reputation, or collect your fee?"  
  
Rick drew a sharp, deep breath. His lip curled in response to Furborough's insult of his wife, yet still he remained silent, purposely taking in every word the Legionnaire said...each nervous tic and worried expression. Then to the astonishment of the Corporal, he released the hammer on his gun without breaking his stare and pointed the barrel to the floor. Finally, his voice came in slow and gravelled, "A bullet's too good for you. And it's too quick for me." Rick cocked his head towards Waters indicating for him to leave before focussing back on the unscrupulous excuse for a soldier who desecrated his wife.  
  
Furborough watched as Waters began to slink away and spoke up sarcastically, "So he's had his share then, has he? Or does the watchman get away with turnin' Judas?"  
  
Neil Waters cringed.  
  
Rick wrenched the young Private back by his arm, setting him directly between himself and Furborough, "Watchman?"  
  
"Aaw, now don't say you forgot to tell the man, Neil?" Waters stumbled for words as Furborough's acerbity continued to implicate him. It was no use though; and he found himself wishing that if he was going to be thrashed by one or the other, that it would just be done with. But still Furborough chattered behind him while he was left to stare helplessly at O'Connell. "So! You just decided to throw me to the wolves without mentioning how ya stood and watched making sure nobody stuck their face in where it wasn't wanted? You limey little bastard!"  
  
He knew no matter what he said it would make no difference, but he had to try, "I had no choice!" It was a true plea from Waters but it fell on deaf ears.  
  
Untouched by pity, Rick growled steadily, "Oh yeah. You had a choice."  
  
Those were the last words Waters heard before he felt his jaw crack under the pressure of speeding backhand from O'Connell which knocked him unconscious, scattering tables in every direction as he crashed to the floor. Rick was still holding the gun when he'd struck and it was sent spinning from his hand under the pressure of the blow. With O'Connell off balance and momentarily unarmed, Furborough siezed his opportunity and pounced! He threw his whole weight at the American with such a force it brought both of them to the floor. Clambering through the mess of tables and broken chairs, the two kept a grip on one another as they rolled through the mess, dispersing a scurry of customers trying to avoid any entanglement. Rick's gun was lost amid the clutter and he had no opportunity to reach for his second. With a grunt that accurately relayed the effort, he managed to shove the Corporal away long enough to pull himself to his feet and gain his bearings. Some of the patrons were fleeing through the single door, while others had remained to watch the fight. Money was being placed heavily on the only remaining upright table and Rick scowled at the sight before spitting a trickle of blood from his mouth.  
  
Furborough was rising to his feet with his back to him and Rick reached down, grabbing him by the collar and pulled him off balance as he was hauled up the rest of the way. However, Furborough found his feet surprisingly well and sent a sharp elbow into O'Connell's ribs, instantly breaking his grip.  
  
This man was strong!  
  
An image flashed through Rick's mind of Evelyn being cornered and completely overpowered by this archfiend and a hatred stronger than his own reckoning burst forward from his chest. He straightened with his jaw and fist clenched, connecting a blind furious blow into her assailant's jaw so severe it sent Furborough spinning! He smiled as the Corporal fell away, but the force of his action was stronger than his injury could tolerate and his leg buckled beneath him. Rick staggered backwards, violently resisting the impluse to grab at his old, persistant wound when it refused to carry him. Furborough swayed before him, clumsily swiping at the blood on his lip and smiled viciously as O'Connell's weakness loomed apparent.  
  
"I see you've still got that little souvenir from our last meeting, Captain. Givin' ya some gip, is it?"  
  
Rick had no intention of responding, but neither did he have a chance, before Furborough lurched forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. Lifting an arm too late to block the attack, Haris landed a heavy fist that Rick felt reverberate through his jaw! Stepping forward, he reclaimed O'Connell's shoulder preparing for another strike, but this time Rick stopped the blow by grabbing hold of his fist, twisting and wrenching it behind the Englishman's back winning a cheer of approval from one group of onlookers.  
  
His face and leg still aching, Rick shoved the soldier to the floor, picked him up and threw him down again. As he lay sprawled on the floor, O'Connell grunted and hauled him up again, this time to push his face into a wall using his entire weight to restrain him. Grabbing a fistfull of hair, he yanked Furborough's head to the side, forcing eye contact and snarling, "I'm here to collect my payment, as you so cruedly put it! Straight out of your worthless hide!"  
  
"Only if you can stand!" Barked Furborough immediately before kicking back against O'Connell's wounded leg and successfully gaining his release from the wall. Rick fell away slightly before another blow sent him to the floor beside Waters. Rick groaned as he rolled onto his side to stand, but his pain was inaudible beneath the noise of the room. The gullible Private was still out cold but nobody seemed to care. The room resounded with a mixture of jeers and plaudits and the owner could be heard repeatedly swapping his furious shouts over the state of his business and for someone to fetch the local guard!  
  
Rising to his feet amid the confusion, Rick felt an odd numbness in his leg. It was a strange sensation, but at least the throbbing had stopped! He didn't care one way or the other whether it was adrenaline induced or divine intervention, he was simply grateful not to have to think about it any longer. Furborough's vile laughter filtered through the noise and he swaggered into Rick's view. "Hehe, you look as though you've had enough." He mocked. "Why don't ya just slink off home and tell the little slut you slugged me?"  
  
A smile beamed across Rick's face and he nodded with concession, approaching with an exaggerated limp, "Yeah, you're right. It hurts. But not as much as this!" and his fist cracked against the Englishman's jaw. Another roar rose from within the room as Rick lined up another! But this time when Furborough retaliated, a spray of red fanned out across the room and Rick felt a sticky wetness drench his upper arm and flow down it's length to his fingers! A flash of metal in Furborough's hand signalled another strike but Rick intercepted the blade keeping it above their heads. He smashed the Legionnaire's hand into the wall again and again until the knife fell to the floor, then laid three swift blows into the side of his head before Furborough kicked out at O'Connell's injured leg. Free of the American once more, he immediately retrieved the knife and lunged! The Corporal tripped past as Rick dodged the attack swiftly and grabbed him from behind, one arm reaching roughly across his chest, the other clutching at the wrist which held the knife. Rick forced it down, the blade cutting Furborough's waist and drawing blood. The soldier retaliated and pulled free, laughing when realizing the wound was only superficial. His merriement was short lived, however, and the leg of a broken chair cracked against his cheek and he fell hard onto the floorboards, spitting blood and teeth into his hands. Then a sudden blackness shrouded him as O'Connell's boot connected heavily against his chin!  
  
The betting patronage that had stood watching fell suddenly silent, all eyes on the motionless Legionnaire looking for any sign of life. O'Connell stood over him, puffing as he swiped his arm across his bloodied mouth. Satisfied that Furborough was comatose, he staggered back several paces and examined the wound to his arm. A two inch gash just below his shoulder that would no doubt require stitching with a side prescription of morality from Ross.  
  
Glancing over his shoulder to once more examine his fallen foe, Rick was satisfied he'd won. Now all he needed to do was somehow get this perverse profligate back to Trigg and let the Legion deal with him. Looking down at him, Rick scowled and spat the remaining blood from his mouth. Killing the bastard would have made him feel better, but in the long run just knowing what the French had in store for him was just as good; and he had managed to avoid a trip to the gallows for himself.  
  
Looking around at the gamblers, he was amused to see that most of them appeared disappointed by the outcome and his wry smile drew a low, grumbling acquiesce from the losers which only made him laugh. But that, in turn, irritated his dry throat and coughed harshly, struggling to catch his breath.  
  
Turning his back on the whole shattered scene, O'Connell approached the bar and a red-faced proprietor. Still unable to speak clearly through the coughing, he pointed at a rum bottle on the shelf behind. The owner flatly refused. Instead, he waved his hands angrily about the room pointing out it's total state of wreckage. He insisted on compensation or justice, or both, for his never tidy but always lucrative business! Rick leaned heavily against the bar and produced a roll of notes from his shirt pocket. The owner stared at the money and then at O'Connell who pushed the roll towards him. "Take it. Fix your place. Just hand me the bottle." Slowly sliding the cash across the counter and dipping it into his pocket, the now appeased barman nodded then gladly reached behind for the bottle and placed it down gently before the afternoon's winner.  
  
Removing the cork from the bottle with his teeth then spitting it to the side, Rick swigged deep, relieved at the soothing effect the alcohol had on his throat and exhaled through a grimace. His arm stung like hell and his leg and jaw ached, but he was satisfied with his victory and grateful for the fact that it wasn't him lying spread-eagle on the floor. He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and set his mind on going home and seeing to Evelyn.  
  
But his thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present by an excited cheer from the revellers as the now very wakeful Haris Furborough rose from the dirty floor and lunged at O'Connell with his knife aimed squarely between his shoulders. The kick had only dazed him and his renewed attack was a raging one! Rick twisted around, just narrowly avoiding the blade and Furborough crashed into the bar unable to stop in his stride. The bottle smashed to the floor and Rick towed him up by the shirt collar only to be greeted by Furborough delivering a decisive backwards fist over his shoulder so intense it forced his O'Connell's head backwards!  
  
The erroneous Corporal spun about, wildly brandishing his blade high above him determined to bring it down swiftly and accurately, totally unconcerned with a roomful of now eerily silent wittnesses. Opening his eyes in time to see a glint of cold metal above him, Rick raised his hand grabbing it overtop of Furborough's and temporarily hampering the weapon's path. A strained contest of strength held the knife between them at head height, each man returning the force of the other as the blade jerked it's way, creeping higher then lower. Still the onlookers held their silence.  
  
Furborough watched the blade as it continued on it's uncertain route, whereas Rick looked directly into the shallow eyes before him . Both clenched their jaws and summoned every ounce of strength in determination of a common goal, but were fuelled by different fires. Furborough fought for his life, plain and simple, but Rick was intent on vengeance! Keeping his glare locked on the cruel eyes before him, Rick imagined Evelyn trying to avoid the very same. He saw her terrified as she backed away from this man, frantically darting her own eyes left and right in the hope that the man she married had swallowed his pride and followed her and Alex.  
  
Rick gained a small advantage over Furborough's force and the knife began to edge away from him.  
  
His vision of Evelyn continued as he imagined her hiding Alex behind her, desperately hoping for his father to arrive from nowhere and save her from what she must have known well was about to happen, only to find herself utterly alone and trapped.  
  
The knife continued to inch towards Furborough whose eyes now appeared very anxious. Rick stared into what were now dark, frightened pools and growled through clenched teeth, "You should've stayed on the floor."  
  
Even in such a desperate situation, Furborough could only call upon vile insolence for his defence, "Exactly the place I left her? No, I don't think so." The look he saw on O'Connell's face signalled Furborough's final defeat and he couldn't help but laugh at the irony. The strength in his arm was weakening and the blade between them began to shake furiously on it's decent. O'Connell's force continued to smother his own until abruptly his arm gave way entirely and his vision went black!  
  
What was left of the clientele flinched as the force against O'Connell's strike fell away and the knife sank deep into the side of Furborough's throat! The Legionnaire choked on his own blood, his hands flailing between his neck and the American as he slid to the floor, still alive, but dying.  
  
Rick stepped back, transfixed by this man crouched on the floor gasping for breath. No pity washed over him, nor satisfaction. His total lack of emotion felt odd as he watched Furborough vainly snatch at his last threads of life. It wasn't the victory he had imagined...there was no relief. He was still carrying the guilt and blame over Evelyn's attack and he still had to look into her face and try to make ammends over everything from Ethan to his uncompromising pride.  
  
Haris Furborough spluttered and wheezed. His own bloodied hand fumbled erratically about this throat then his head thumped back against the floor and he was still. Completely still.  
  
Rick watched, his brow furrowed. Perhaps this was Evelyn's victory.  
  
Looking down at his shirt he saw the splats of blood covering the front. He touched his hand to them then ignored them. There was nothing to be done for that right now. His cast his eyes over the onlookers who seemed neither shocked or disappointed, then his spied the still unconscious Neil Waters. No matter what he thought of that weak minded little cohort, he wasn't about to kill a man who was lying completely senseless on the floor. The owner had walked around to inspect the body laying in a bloody heap and Rick tapped him on the shoulder, pointing towards Waters. "Get someone to drop him in the street. Someone from the Legion will find him and drag his sorry ass back to the camp." Rick was offered no response other than a stern glare from the man who seemed to be taking in every detail of his face, no doubt imagining a hefty reward to match the already large cash roll he'd slipped into his pocket earlier. "If you don't want anyone coming in here asking questions, I suggest you just dump him outside." Rick stood for a moment longer then accepted the fact that he was now a marked man. Without another word he turned and left.  
  
The sun was setting, offering him the cover of night to get himself unconspicously back to the Fort...to treatment for his arm from Ross, which he prayed would be of the silent variety...and back to Evelyn.  
  
end chapter  
  
I'm following in the wake of other writers who offer individual thanks to reviewers here...it's nice and I enjoy reading the little notes they leave for me, so I'm returning the favour.  
  
Mommints ~ thanks for the review and kind words and for being my very first 100th review! If I had a prize I'd give it to you!  
  
Quotalex ~ it's always nice to see a new name on the reviews, thanks.  
  
Little Green Lawn Gnome ~ another new name (and a cute one) thankyou. Mushy stuff will ensue...soon-ish.  
  
Ruse ~ please don't attack your innocent Furby doll, I hope the other Furby died sufficently to it ;) And where have you been lately? Many thanks for the constant and encouraging reviews, they mean a lot.  
  
Den ~ consider his skin ripped. Thanks as well.  
  
Lula ~ drop in anytime, it's always nice to hear what people think.  
  
MBooker ~ is E.R. finished yet? Hope so, I'm looking forward to your next chapter. I'll be delivering the tenderness soon, I promise.  
  
A.J.Mackey ~ you may well duck and run! Two at a time indeed! Just for you, this was a long chapter ;) Well, it was longer than the last one anyway. :D Thanks for the ideas which spur me on and for the reviews. 


	15. Broken Bodies, Broken Hearts

No infrigement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough A.Trigg and N.Waters are entities borne of my own imagination. Well, General Trigg partly belongs to A.J.Mackey. Before she mentioned him, he didn't even exist in my little world. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG 13  
  
"Nothing can so pierce the soul as the uttermost sigh of the body." George Santayana  
  
CHAPTER 15 ~ Broken Bodies, Broken Hearts.  
  
Whenever in dire need of it, Rick always found that nightfall dragged it's feet and now was no exception. There was no shroud of darkness to be offered as he limped his way through the dusky streets, an obvious, bleeding mess.  
  
The trek home was a haphazard disaster! With nothing but his hand to apply pressure to the fresh wound, the length of his injured arm was a slippery mixture of blood and dirt. However, what concerned him more was the unwanted attention he drew from most of those he passed. Although his leg only trickled with blood, the pain was tortuous! Each time he leaned his weight to that side his leg rejected the motion, at times throwing him off balance and into anything from a vendor's cart to a fellow pedestrian. In order to stem the damage to himself and others, this dubious victor would steady himself against a wall and drag his leg several paces until the pain subsided enough for him to continue with the arduous journey.  
  
Not before time, night began to claim the city but it made no difference now. Cairo was a lair for every type of crook and opportunist; and at every corner the weakened O'Connell threw a backwards glance to make sure he wasn't being followed. Knowing the city's inhabitants as he did, he very well believed it possible that word was already spreading of a reward being offered for a tall, dark haired American wanted for murder! He searched for it in the eyes of everyone he passed or knocked over.  
  
True or not...dead or alive...nothing would matter but the money! If there was a bounty on his head, there was little he could do about it. He had no choice but to risk his identity and leave immediately after the fight to make his way home through the crowds.  
  
It was apparent that his time in Egypt was drawing to a close. Even though the decision to leave was now forced upon him, it wasn't one which he particularly regretted, but given the choice he would have seen it happen under better circumstances. Furborough's death meant it was no longer safe for him to hang around. From today, no matter what obstacles stood in his path, he knew he had to get his family out of here before they were endangered again or used against him. What worried him most was the problem of when Evelyn would be well enough to travel and where he was going hide her and Alex until then.  
  
"Why didn't the bastard just stay down?!" He growled beneath his breath, dragging his leg along with a fury that matched the throbbing.  
  
By the time he'd reached Fort Brydon walking was practically impossible, yet he still had the stairs to deal with before he could close the door on this day. "C'mon! Shift your carcass!" he grumbled in an effort to spur himself along the final uphill yards. Right now, even if it meant just sitting beside her while she slept, all he wanted was his wife. He needed a sanctuary to sit and think and he had only ever found such a place with her.  
  
Grabbing hold of the railing with a blood-smeared hand, he began to climb the first flight but his leg buckled at only the third step. Cursing fluently, Rick lurched forward to prevent yet another fall, his face contorted with the strain and his breathing interrupted. Physically pulling his leg back into position, O'Connell sucked the air through his teeth as a low growl escaped his throat and he forced his body straight and onwards, literally hauling himself up the stairs. Sweating and doubled over, the near-exhausted American stopped on the landing out of breath. For a moment he stared at the blood covering him then squeezed his eyes shut, wondering just how in the hell life had managed to get so bad in a matter of a few weeks!  
  
Slowly raising his vision, he saw his objective about twenty feet away and laughed ironically. Considering the condition he was in, it may as well have been twenty miles! A thin line of light shone like a beacon from the crack beneath the door as if to signal his way; then with a sigh of relief, the ex-Legionnaire bowed his head in thanks before struggling the last few paces.  
  
Stopping just outside, he pressed an ear to the door. Nothing. Not a sound. Life behind the wooden barrier seemed too quiet and an eerie sense of foreboding settled over him. After a day such as this, anything could be wrong and he wasn't in the frame of mind to take any chances.  
  
Quietly drawing his remaining gun from it's holster, Rick set the hammer and lifted the weapon just above his shoulder. Showing the skill adapted from years of practice, he employed his injured limb to silently squeeze the doorknob, gritting his teeth against the pain which shot through his upper arm. The door came slightly ajar and still there was no sound from within, not even of Alex clattering about. Positioning himself against the frame, he gave one swift kick and the door flung open to bang against it's hinges and rebound to be caught by the same bloodied arm. In one coercive motion, O'Connell had entered the room with his weapon primed and aimed to find two men frozen to the spot watching him!  
  
Ross and Jonathan stood startled just before their chairs There had been no time for them to move any further before being confronted with the sight of the blood-stained American bursting into his own home, gun drawn and fierce!  
  
Utterly speechless, the pair stood staring as Rick halted to skim his eyes about the room seeking out some sort of danger they were at a loss to comprehend. They looked across at each other and then back to Rick, who had by now realized that his abrupt and impulsive entrance may have been unnecessary.  
  
Lowering his gun half way, Rick queried anxiously, "Had any trouble?"  
  
"No. None. But it appears you have." Jonathan warily moved away from his chair and peered around his brother-in-law out into the hall. "Is it just you, or are others bringing up the rear?"  
  
Ignoring Jonathan's charade, Rick scanned the room once more to settle any uncertainty before he spoke, "Is Evelyn alright?"  
  
"As fine as anyone could expect." Jonathan rounded the furniture and approached O'Connell, "What in God's name happened to you?!"  
  
Rick was still reluctant to holster his gun which prompted Jonathan to lay a hand against his shoulder and motion him to a chair. At first he resisted, but Jonathan urged him by way of pressing down on his shoulder until his mulish brother-in-law succumbed and allowed his battered body to sink down into the chair. It wasn't until he finally leaned back against the seat that Rick realized just how good it felt to be off his feet. He glanced at Ross and wished he hadn't. The stout Yorkshireman had remained in the exact spot he stood when the door banged open and hadn't said a word since O'Connell arrived. However, he met the younger man's glance with an unsettling expression that forced vengeful husband to look away.  
  
"Water? Jonathan proffered a ceramic jug and glass towards Rick before reconsidering, "On second thoughts, perhaps something with a little more kick to it."  
  
"Straight iodine an' a roll of bandage more like." Ross cracked as he resumed his seat and folded his arms.  
  
"Just water." Rick reached for the glass, nodding his thanks, "Where is she?"  
  
"Still sleeping...I hope." Jonathan turned and walked softly towards Evelyn's door. Pushing it ajar, he peeked inside then pulled it shut without so much as a creak. "Yep! Out like a light. She was a little upset earlier over some sort of nightmare, but that seems to have passed, thank God. She asked about you though."  
  
Rick swallowed the water and gripped the empty glass firmly. "I want to see her!"  
  
Catching Ross in the corner of his eye, Rick turned and found the doctor still staring at him in silent rebuke. "What?"  
  
"Are ya askin' for advice or do ya already know what I've got to say?"  
  
"I already know."  
  
Rick strained forward and started to lift himself from the chair before he was halted by Ross' chiding, "Aye. But I'm gonna tell ya anyway. Ya won't be steppin' foot inter that room until ya clean yaself up t'look half decent! Ya'll be scaring' the mite half to her death lookin' like that!" The doctor looked him up and down before adding, "An' you've no right be bleedin' all over 'er neither!"  
  
"I'll be fine!"  
  
"Ya'll be doin' as ya bloody well told, O'Connell!" Ross scolded as if speaking to an disrespectful child, "I'm the lass's physician and I'm not havin' 'er more terrified than she already is! Do ya understand me!" Ross glared sternly and for a moment, Rick was taken aback. "What's more, ya stink t'high heaven!"  
  
Regaining his determination, Rick countered "If she's asleep it won't matter." Defiantly, he showed his back to the doctor only to find Jonathan barring his path. Irriated, he moved to walk around him but Jonathan side-stepped to hamper him once more. Raising his eyebrows in angry interest at the Englishman's stand, Rick warned, "Move out of my way, Jonathan."  
  
"Sorry old boy, but I have to agree with the good doctor on this one. You're bleeding! You're filthy! And..." Jonathan sniffed the air then waved his hand at the offensive odor, "....you are a bit on the nose! I don't know how much of that blood is yours, but you can bet anything you like that you won't be going in to see her looking like that." Recalcitrant and eye to eye with his brother- in-law, Jonathan conceded a little sympathy and reasoned with him, "She's already been through enough today don't you think?"  
  
The words hit home for Rick who agreed with an exasperated groan and dropped heavily back into the chair. "Alright! Do what you have to. But make it fast!"  
  
"First of all..." Ross pulled his chair in front of Rick's, lifting his medical bag onto his lap in one easy movement, "...tell me what made ya charge into the room that way? Who'd ya expect t'be here?"  
  
The reluctant patient mulled through the questions wondering which, if either, he would answer; but his lack of response just irritated the doctor further who set about cleaning O'Connell's gashed arm a degree rougher than usual. "Alright then. Did ya at least find the man ya went searchin' for?"  
  
"Arrrgh!" The iodine gushed over his wounded shoulder! Rick winced and instinctively tried to pull away, but Ross' claw-like grip about his wrist ruined any escape, "Yeah! Arrrgh! I got him."  
  
"Then why would ya be runnin'...if ya got 'im?"  
  
Looking directly at Ross, Rick wondered if he should answer and drag his friend into all the trouble which would most certainly follow.  
  
"No comment I see." Ross ran a final stroke of iodine across his patient's arm and reached into his bag. "This needs t'be stitched. D'ya want somethin' to bite on, or no?"  
  
"No. Just sew."  
  
Ross agreed without lifting his eyes, "It be your choice."  
  
Looking at his proud friend, Rick softened his tone and tried to smooth things over, "It's better that you don't know, Ross."  
  
"Oh aye!" Ross knew the American too well and threw a quick glance at him between threading the needle before inquiring casually, "Just how dead is he?"  
  
Shaking his head with mild amusement, Rick answered clearly, "Dead."  
  
Ross inserted the first of five stitches and Rick gripped the arm of the chair with his free hand. "I'll have that whisky now, Jonathan."  
  
"I expect ya ignored the warnin' t'get it over with good 'n' quick 'n' dished out a damn good thumpin' first?"  
  
Rick gratefully took the shot glass Jonathan offered him as the third stitch weaved through his skin, "He pulled a knife.... aaargh! Watch it!" Rick snatched a glimpse of the handywork forming on his arm and complained loudly, "Where's that magic touch of your's gone?"  
  
"With what ya telling me, I doubt I've the time for dainty stitchin'. So 'e pulled a knife...carry on."  
  
Rick watched the needle enter his skin once more and swallowed the whisky in a single gulp, "Not much more to tell. Fifteen minutes later he was choking on it."  
  
Ross pulled the thread on the final suture and severed it between his teeth. With his usual no-nonsense manner, he pushed his chair back and stood, slapping O'Connell on the back of the shoulder as he did. His eyes revealed a glint of satisfaction and he smiled broadly. "Good Lad!"  
  
Rick jolted forward at the doctor's congratulatory smack on the back and studied his latest handywork before pressing his hand over the wound as a muted comfort, "Looks like you've been sewing up a trawling net!"  
  
The Yorkshireman chuckled at the sorry site of his patient, "Oh aye? Well it suits ya looks. Now drop ya trousers 'n' let's get a look at that leg o'yours."  
  
~o~  
  
Cairo's market places were all but deserted; barely a sould walked the streets. At night this place was, for more or less, a ghost town. Long-tailed scavengers could be heard rustling through the litter left by the day's stall-holders, but there was little else to take Emir Hammond's mind off whether or not O'Connell would keep his word and rendevous at the expected hour. The restless half-caste kicked at the ground hard enough to shift the stones beneath his feet and began to pace. Standing outside Nasser's door in the dead of night was cold, unpleasant and did nothing to ease his mind of the money problems he desperately needed to sort out. If O'Connell didn't show as promised, then Emir knew the morning would either see him dead or fleeing Cairo, either way the outlook appeared grim.  
  
The sound of footsteps from the far end of the street caught his attention and he spun about expectedly only to be immediately disappointed. It was nothing more than two European tourists making their way hand in hand through the night. Emir whined aloud when he saw them and called out through frustration, "You fools! You will be robbed or murdered!" The couple looked over their shoulders while Emir continued venting his spleen, "...Or both!" The man extended a protective arm around the woman causing the Egyptian to laugh aloud and gibe, "Why don't you just go home...before you see something you shouldn't!"  
  
~o~  
  
At long last, after enduring the endless stitching and cleaning that his companions had insisted upon, Rick had finally been permitted to enter his own bedroom. During the entire journey home this evening he had thought of nothing but Evelyn. Of holding her and apologizing. Of being so sure he could set things right. Yet now as he sat beside the bed, he found himself thankful she was asleep. He shook his head dolefully and let it fall into his hands. What could he possibly say to her? How would she react on seeing him...tears? Or worse...silence. There were too many doubts and questions for his liking and what's more...he could see all the arrows of blame pointing directly to himself...and the burden was a mighty one! Furborough's death had done nothing to ease his guilt, but at least he wasn't a threat any longer. But the aftermath of the fight was yet to come.  
  
Still, she slept so peacefully!  
  
Her face was pale against the colour of the quilt and it appeared neither Jonathan or Ross had offered her so much as a damp cloth to wipe her face. Traces of dirt were still smeared over her cheeks and forehead and Rick wondered that perhaps she had refused their charity simply to hasten them from the bedroom. She, nor Alex, had stirred in the half hour he had sat here with them and, for now at least, he was happy just to watch them sleep. Relieved they were safe and grateful for the fact that he didn't have to speak just now. He was even reluctant to brush the hair from her face in case she woke in fright.  
  
The covers rose and fell with her every breath, Alex's head nestled contently beneath her chin. The whole picture of his wife and son belied the grief that would burst through on their waking. Leaning forward in his chair he watched as they slept, hanging onto each other, then squeezed his eyes shut to fend off the emotion. Just beneath the line of the blankets he had seen the collar of her blouse, dirty and torn. She hadn't even attempted to change from her clothes before burying herself beneath the covers and hiding, refusing to see him. His natural impulse was to climb onto the bed beside them and hold onto them, whispering reassuring promises to her that everything was going to be fine from here on in. That nothing would ever touch or harm her again....not while he drew breath. It was an impossible wish, of course. The best he could hope for straight away would be for her to just look at him without turning away in shame.  
  
~o~  
  
Emir knocked loudly on the paint-stripped door he had spent the last hour pacing before. It opened far enough to allow a few inches of light into the street and reveal half the face of one of Nasser's men. "I'm going to find O'Connell before time runs out all together. There is still just over an hour until midnight. Tell Nasser I won't return without him!" The thug offered a grunt in reply and closed the door. Emir snarled and raised his hand in an insulting gesture before hunching his shoulders against the cold and walking off in search of the American. "You'll be thanking me when I bring him back!" Half way down the street he turned and shouted into the darkness, "I'm gonna make Nasser a rich man tonight!" No reply loud enough to even drown out the rats was offered, and Emir set off on his disgruntled search for O'Connell muttering as he went, "You'll see! Then we'll see who gets left standing out in the cold!"  
  
~o~  
  
Alex stirred, sucking in his breath as he came to wakefulness and pushing his head into the pillow. He spied his father sitting beside the bed and, half awake, instantly lunged towards him disturbing the covers and kicking his mother awake. Rick scooped the boy onto his lap, greeting him with a warm, hushed voice; then looking over his son's head he saw Evelyn quickly drop her timid gaze and turn her back to him.  
  
With his pudgy arms now wrapped firmly around his father's neck, Alex had began chattering incoherently and Rick was offering simple, gentle replies of 'yeah' and 'hey, how about that' as he crept around the bed and knelt down to Evelyn's level with his son still clinging to him. The squatting combined with the child's weight settled heavily on his leg and it was an effort for him not to react to the sensation. According to Ross and Jonathan, he was deemed presentable to be in here with her, but they also made it plain he was not to upset her with stories of blood and gore. Any discomfort from his injuries would have to be kept well well hidden until she was stronger.  
  
As soon as Evelyn sensed him, she attempted to roll back but was stilled by the gentle pressure of her husband's warm hand resting over her wrist. He didn't speak and she kept her eyes shut tight, even when a tear squeezed it's way through her lashes and trickled down the side of her face. Her chest heaved in a bid to stem a rush of ignominy and heartache, but her defense was shattered with his simple act of reassuringly enfolding his fingers into hers. Evelyn broke down in a heavy grief and sobbed. Alex ceased his chatter and stared in confusion while Rick bit his lip and dropped his head against hers as she cried. If there was anything to be said at such a moment, he had no idea what it was. 'Sorry' seemed completely inadequate and any promise of an impending silver lining would have been a lie. There was nothing he could offer but his presence. As paltry as it seemed to him, that's exactly what he did, staying by her side gently holding her hand. Alex watched his parents, only understanding that tears meant sadness. Wrenching his tiny hand free from his father's chest, he lifted it to Evelyn's head and stroked her hair gently.  
  
After what seemed an eternity, Evelyn's distress dissipated into broken sobs. Only then did Rick venture to raise his head and found her staring at the ceiling. Her eyes red and cheeks wet, she moaned an empty sigh so deep it made her shiver. It was hollow, pained and nothing like Rick had ever heard before. It created a sorrow within him that pierced his very soul. He understood it perfectly, yet he was damned if he knew where to begin fixing that which he was now convinced he had caused. Stroking gently at the dirt smeared on her face he thought ruefully how perfect the world would be if he could mend the rest of her as easily with soap and water.  
  
"Evie." He whispered, but she remained staring blankly at the ceiling and he wondered what horrors were running through her mind. "Sweetheart?"  
  
"What time is it?" It was nothing more than a broken whisper and to Rick, it was a strange question.  
  
"It's late."  
  
"How long have you been sitting here?"  
  
"A while."  
  
"Are Jonathan and Dr.Campbell still outside?" These were uncomplicated, mundane questions but they provided Evelyn with a barrier against speaking about anything to do with her attack. Rick squeezed her hand and nodded, unsure whether or not to let her continue on this way.  
  
Sucking in a deep breath for courage, he reached out to stroke her cheek and ventured a few words of his own, "Evelyn." He paused as she turned her head to him in the deathly silence of the room, "I'm so sorry I let you go alone today." She choked back the emotion as Rick softly moved the hair from her eyes, "I should never have let you go by yourself."  
  
Tears began to trickle onto her pillow and she lifted a hand to stroke her son's face, "How could you know anything like this would happen?"  
  
"It's not the point, Evie. After everything that's happened, I should have just been with you to make sure you were all right." He placed his hand to her chin and lifted her face to look at him, "It's all my fault and I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. I'm so very sorry."  
  
Evelyn cast her eyes in every direction in a bid not to cry, but when Rick leaned his head against hers the grief renewed itself and she wept. Reaching her arms about his neck, she raised herself slightly and clung to him. It would take a long time to recover from Ethan's death and Furborough's assult, but just feeling Rick's arms creep firmly about her back and hold fast was the first step on a long road.  
  
end chapter  
  
Thank you....  
  
AJMACKEY ~ If it wasn't for you providing the 'hurry up' emails, this chapter would still be missing. Thanks my friend, you inspire me.  
  
MOMMINTS ~ Thankyou, I'm always chuffed to know I can offer you a new perspective to a character, especially considering yours are so wonderful. Did the package arrive? ;) I'm glad I knocked you off your chair, lol, that gave me a wonderful image of you.  
  
IMHOTEP'S LOVER ~ Now there's a tag that most likely raises jealousy from a few on this board. Thanks for reading, I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
  
RUSE ~ I have the strongest feeling that Furby isn't a poster boy of yours ;) hehehe. It's good to know I sent him to his demise with just the right amount of satisfaction amongst my reviewers. Thanks for the review, matey. I'm working my way around that forum of yours... Boromirthong indeed! Loved it!  
  
EVIEFAN ~ Another Furby fan, I see. ;) Thanks for the review and I hope you have a blast of a time on your holiday. Live it up good and proper.  
  
MBOOKER ~ Yeah, Evelyn's clued in. She knew where Rick was. Thanks for the review. Now that ER is over you're flat out busy writing your next chapter....right???  
  
WISE IS THE GOATEE ~ Thanks for reading and reviewing, even though parts of the story were rough, it will get brighter towards the end.  
  
LITTLE GREEN LAWN GNOME ~ thanks for dropping in again and keeping up with the story.  
  
DEN ~ Another lovely reader who has been with this story from the beginning. Thankyou for hanging in there. Glad you're enjoying it.  
  
And thankyou to everyone else who reads :D 


	16. Time Waits For No Man

No infringement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough A.Trigg and N.Waters are entities borne of my own imagination. Well, General Trigg partly belongs to A.J.Mackey. Before she mentioned him, he didn't even exist in my little world. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
My thanks to Mommints and Ladybug for their help with the money problem in this chapter. Sadly I lost the email (could have kicked myself, in fact, I'm pretty sure I did) and decided to just go for the basic English Pounds considering how long it's taken me to write this chapter as it is. But I very much appreciate the kindness in trying to help me out. Big smiles!  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG 13  
  
CHAPTER 16 ~ Time Waits For No Man  
  
As the child slept, whispered words passed between husband and wife. Sorrowful words laced with comfort, reassurance and promises, the type which no other would ever share. Emotions rose and fell on the back of tragic events that most people believe will never happen to them. The dim light of the room was comparable to the struggle ahead of them where there shone little hope for immediate healing. The only glimmer was a betoken of the strength each prayed to find in the other.  
  
Yet, too quickly, the initial embrace of love and care was overshadowed. An overwhelming sense of shame seemed to drown Evelyn when she properly noticed her tattered, soiled clothing. With a gasp she wriggled herself free of her husband and desperately tried to smooth the creases in her skirt, just to exclaim in dismay at the state of her sullied hands. Caught off guard by her sudden change of mood, Rick spread his arms wide and released her, watching confounded while she furiously rubbed her hands together then over her arms and body. Slowly, for fear of frightening her, he reached out to touch her shoulder hoping to say something that would allay her distress, but she shoved him aside and scrambled from the bed before he could offer a single word.  
  
"Hey, Evie. It's all right." His voice carried a hint of surprise even though he had meant to soothe.  
  
"No! I'm afraid it's not. This won't do at all." By now she was standing bent over herself, vigorously rubbing at the dirt which felt as though it was caked to her. "I'm surprised you can bare to look at me at all in this state!"  
  
Watching the scene unfold before him, Rick shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts, "What?"  
  
"You're right, of course!" Waving her hands wildly at her skirt, "A harlot wouldn't be caught looking like this!" She was angry now and on the verge of tears.  
  
"I didn't say anything like that." Maintaining a deep, calm voice Rick steadily rose to make his way around the bed. "I'd never even think that." He stood before her now and lowered his head to see her face, "We can throw them away if you don't want them."  
  
"Burning them would be better!" Her attempt to be rid of the dust was now bordering on frenzy and Rick had to wonder if she even realized her fingernails were leaving white scratches on her arms.  
  
"If that's what you want." Placing a hand on each of her shoulders, he unsuccessfully tried to coax her into sitting back down. To his dismay, she jumped at his touch and jerked away insisting she needed no help.  
  
"I can manage on my own!" Her words were scarcely uttered when she swayed off balance and instinctively thrust out her arms in search of a hold. Before being able to offer any kind of protest, she was caught by a single quick reflex and Rick pulled her in close.  
  
Keeping her head pressed down against his chest, she steadied herself beneath the sound of his whisper, "I don't think you can. C'mon, let me help you? Just a little bit." The fact she refused to look at him made little difference. There was no need to see her face to know she was crying.  
  
Quivering against him, Evelyn spoke so quietly it pierced his heart, "I can't." Rick squeezed his eyes shut at the pain in her voice and let his chin rest over the top of her head. For the first time in his life he came to realize what a dispirited companion guilt could be. Keeping one arm about her waist, he pressed the other to her head. How in God's name he was going to compensate for his arrogance was beyond him right at this moment. His pride lay stone cold dead alongside that of his infant son; and his wife was shattered and dishonoured because of it. He stood there with her, rocking her gently from side to side as the harsh reality at last settled over him. Before he even became aware of it, her arms had left their stiff position by her side and allowed her fingers to snake their path up his chest to cling lightly from his shirt. Yet still she kept her head down. The gentle pressure from her fingertips made his throat swell and he tightened his hold believing it should him hanging his head in shame and not her. "I just can't."  
  
He rubbed his hand along the length of her back and noticed she stiffened a little, but at least she didn't try to pull away. Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he reassured her with a whisper, "Sure you can. How about you do the clothes and I can do the bath for you?" She said nothing. The only response he was able to register was another almost indiscernible shudder. Then, speaking her fears as a means to quell them, he offered, "And then I'll take Alex and wait for you out there with Jonathan." Evelyn nodded her agreement with a single sob into his shoulder. Biting his bottom lip, Rick nuzzled his face into her hair, still stroking her back steadily until he was certain she had steadied herself enough to be let go.  
  
~O~  
  
Ross lounged sprawled and snoring in the only easy chair, his head tilted awkwardly into the upholstered head rest. Jonathan sat awake with his legs stretched out, resting his heels on a side table and Rick beside him, holding his sleeping son to his shoulder. It was a subconscious act keeping Alex near to him after how close he came to losing him as well today.  
  
Save for the occasional hushed banter between the brothers-in-law, mostly there was silence...and snoring. As yet, the events of this day were too terrible to be spoken about. Perhaps never.  
  
Easing himself forward to avoid straining his injuries or the risk of waking his son, Rick carefully placed the toddler into the cot by his feet. The child grumbled in a state between asleep and awake, causing his father to hover above him on the verge of lifting him again to intercept any impending crying. No matter how much he loved his son, the thought of having to settle him again tonight was a disagreeable one. Fortunately, for his peace of mind, the protest was short lived and the boy snuggled back to sleep.  
  
"Turning in for the night?" Jonathan queried, yawning as he did.  
  
Shaking his head, Rick leaned down and pulled the blankets over his son, "I'm going to check if Evelyn needs any help. She's been in that bath a little too long."  
  
Jonathan rose and stretched. "Well, I might as well make tracks to my own bed." Bringing his arms back down in a wide circle to his sides, he uttered an after thought while absently reaching to retrieve his cane, "Are we just going to leave him where he is?"  
  
Puzzled by the question, Rick glanced at his sleeping son then back at Jonathan, "Yeah. I'll hear him if he wakes up."  
  
"No." Joanthan pointed behind him, "I mean old grumble bum over there."  
  
O'Connell weighed the idea for only a moment before suggesting laconically, "You wanna wake him?"  
  
"Absolutely not! I'd bet good money on a bear waking in a better mood."  
  
Rick muffled a laugh and touched a hand to Jonathan's shoulder, offering a sincere thanks to his wife's brother. A silent acknowledgement passed between the two men before Jonathan broke the bathos with a slap to O'Connell's shoulder. A considerate gesture as well, making sure to avoid the American's injured side. "Well, enough of that!" he coughed, "My bed's looking pretty good right at the moment. No doubt you could use some sleep yourself."  
  
"Believe it!" Tired and sore, Rick rubbed a hand through his hair, noticing Jonathan's omnipresent cane with amusement. "Do you still need that, or do you just like it?"  
  
Jonathan raised the object awkwardly and considered it, "Well, probably not." he shrugged, "But it's all the fashion don't you know!"  
  
Half smiling, Rick watched as Jonathan reached for the door, then at the last second he offered in earnest, "I mean it Jonathan. Thanks. You know...for sitting with her and..."  
  
Always uncomfortable with a show of appreciation, Jonathan adopted his usual defence and waved the compliment aside, "Oh, you won't be saying that when you see the size of my bill!" That won a smile from the American and he watched him retreat into the bedroom. It was then that Jonathan heaved and blew the air from his lungs, hanging his head over the sadness which lurked beyond those doors. The ache he felt for his sister didn't need to be worn on his sleeve and he preferred it that way.  
  
Alone with his own company, however, was a different matter and as he made his way along the hall he was drawn from his thoughts by scuffling footsteps approaching from behind. He squinted his eyes in the half light and a small recognition triggered in his mind. "I know you, don't I?"  
  
The stranger approached slowly, on his guard. "I'm looking for the American. O'Connell."  
  
"Aaah, you're that funny fellow from the street today." Jonathan extended his hand. "Howard isn't it?"  
  
"Hammond." He grasped the hand held out to him and shook it vigorously. "Emir Hammond. I need to speak with your brother- in-law. Quickly." Emir's demeanour darkened as soon as Jonathan adopted that most annoying habit the British have of sucking the air through their teeth just before the telling of bad news.  
  
"Ooh, I'm afraid that now's not the best time."  
  
"There never is a good time with O'Connell!"  
  
Taken aback by the Egyptian's sudden change in temperament Jonathan decided it would be for the best to send the man on his way and did so by half turning his back while suggesting, "Perhaps if you call back tomorrow. You see his wife's not very well..."  
  
Before he could finish the sentence, Emir had grabbed him by the shoulder forcing the Englishman to look him straight in the eye, "Tomorrow will not do! I must speak with him now!"  
  
Quick to employ his cane, Jonathan smacked the shady, lanky character on the thigh and freed himself from the unpleasant hold. Instantly, Emir snatched the offending object and threw it against the wall, "I said it must be now!"  
  
"Well that's just too bloody bad..."  
  
"Jonathan?"  
  
Seeing O'Connell lean his head through the door, Jonathan straightened himself and made an exaggerated splay of his arm to Hammond in the direction of the voice, "Your man." Walking over to pick up the discarded walking stick which lay only inches from his brother-in-law's feet he mumbled discontentedly to the same, "You move in nothing but the best circles, O'Connell. Honestly!"  
  
With little more than a simper, Rick sent the limping pretender on his way, "Thanks. I'll take it from here Jonathan."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure you will."  
  
Emir stepped forward ready with a barrage of insistence that O'Connell follow him immediately but was stopped before he could speak as the American raised a hand for him to halt. O'Connell stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. Pointing towards the stairs he ordered, "This way!"  
  
"And don't forget that I get a share in whatever it is you two have got cooking." Jonathan reminded them before finally retiring for the night.  
  
Rick ignored him but Emir wasn't in the mood for generosity, "Surely you do not mean to include him?"  
  
"Don't worry about him." Rick wrapped an arm around his visitor's shoulder and walked him down the stairs, "You can keep the lot Emir. I'm not coming."  
  
"What?" The Egyptian's jaw dropped as his eyes widened. "NO! You gave your word! If you don't contact your buyer everything is ruined!" Remonstrating half way between fear and anger, he continued "I may as well..."  
  
O'Connell offered a single word which silenced Emir mid-rant, "Wainwright."  
  
Dumb silence fell upon the Egyptian who stood blinking his eyes in an effort to understand. When he did find his voice, all he could sputter was, "Who?"  
  
Rick kept a determined hand around Hammond' shoulder, still leading him outside. "Wainwright. He's a private collector and very interested in what we've got. He's offered to pay twenty thousand English Pounds for the whole lot so long as they can be smuggled out of Egypt without any trouble." He slapped Emir on the shoulder just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, "That's where you come in."  
  
Any pleasure that Rick might have felt in ridding himself of this problem soon dissipated when Hammond groaned loudly and kicked the bottom step. "You've got to be joking! He's not going to hand all that cash over to someone he's never met!"  
  
"Just tell him I sent you."  
  
"Oh! And he's going to believe that? Look O'Connell, I need that money more than you do!" The Egyptian's eyes revealed a flash of panic while his face reddened in anger, "You just cannot back out now!"  
  
"No, it'll be fine." Marriage hadn't robbed O'Connell of his talent to wheedle and Hammond settled a little to hear what he had to say next. "I've mentioned to him once or twice that I was thinking of getting out. He'll understand."  
  
"He had better! I am a dead man without this deal!"  
  
O'Connell leaned his head into Emir's and murmured, "And I'm a dead man if I leave this Fort! You'll just have to trust me on this."  
  
Not entirely convinced, but desperate for the deal to go through, Hammond queried suspiciously. "Do I bring your share back here?"  
  
The American shook his head, "No, I told you...keep it! I can't afford to have anything more to do with this." He weighed the confused expression on his companion's face and asserted, "Remember that, Emir. Don't come back here looking for me!"  
  
Seeds of interest began to grow in Hammond's mind, but it only faltered his words for a few seconds, "And why not?"  
  
The order of curiosity in that question alerted Rick to the depth of this man's predicament. An uneasiness filled his chest and he believed this man to be capable of leaping from one opportunity to the next in order to save his own skin. He watched the eyes before him carefully and decided that he had already said too much, "Let's just say my wife doesn't approve."  
  
Emir's eyes narrowed just enough to convey that he was able to read between the lines, "All right. Where do I find this, this...?"  
  
"Wainwright." Rick reminded. "You'll find him at the Mena House."  
  
The mere mention of the hotel's name made Hammond's jaw drop a second time in as many minutes. "And just how am I supposed to get in there? I'll be kicked out before I even get in."  
  
O'Connell was beginning to lose patience with the whole situation and it was heard in his voice, "You know, Emir. It's no wonder you're still working for gangsters like Nasser." He tapped a finger to the other man's head and offered, "Throw a couple of coins to those underpaid doorman and get them to send him a message. He'll come."  
  
Jerking his head away from O'Connell's insulting index finger, Emir pulled himself up straight before responding sarcastically, "You got any coins?"  
  
Groaning, O'Connell dipped into his shirt pocket and produced two bills. "Don't spend it all at once, will ya!"  
  
Hammond snatched the money and grinned. Without another word he departed into the night, leaving the American with mixed feelings over finally being rid of the parasite and annoyed that this was the second time today he'd had to buy himself out of a sticky situation.  
  
~O~  
  
He heard the splashing as soon as he reached the foot of the bed. Large, frequent lashes of water that gave the impression his wife was flooding the tiny bathroom floor. Pressing an ear to the door he enquired anxiously, "Everything all right in there?" The lack of response prompted Rick to squeeze the doorknob and he wasn't completely surprised to discover it was locked. He called again; and again she failed to answer. Whatever it was she was doing in there, he didn't like the sound of it and without hesitating he pulled a pocket knife from his hip pocket and flicked the blade. It took only a few seconds to jiggle the lock open and let himself inside.  
  
Evelyn sat with her back to him, the tub filled to the brim. Water lapped over the side in a choppy fashion in time with the unsteady jerks of her elbows as she literally scoured her body with a bath brush! Her shoulders and back displayed uneven red blotches from the rubbing although some were worse than others; and for a moment Rick stood and stared in disbelief.  
  
"Stop!" He stepped towards her almost slipping on the wet floor as he bent over her shoulders to still her arms, "Come on, Evie. Stop now." The water creeping over his hands was freezing and he was surprised at the amount of force he needed to bring her hands together.  
  
Oblivious to her husband's presence until he touched her, Evelyn gasped through fright and embarrassment, "GET OUT!" When her attempt to push him away failed, she drew her knees up to her chest and appealed to his sympathy, "Please Rick. Just leave."  
  
He looked at her briefly, almost ready to give in, but on seeing her shiver he decided against it and determined he would lift her out by force if necessary. So without a word, he plunged his arm into the soapy depth to pull the plug, then swore with the shock, "Goddammit Evie! The water's like ice!" His eyes darted briefly towards her and he shook his head in wonder, "What are you trying to do?"  
  
"I'm washing!" Her voice broke with the stress of being caught in her frantic obsession and the loathing she felt that Rick dared to use his despotic tactics on her. "Please Rick, I'm fine! I'm not finished!" She grabbed for the plug, almost squealing when he jerked it out of reach.  
  
"I think you are." The look she offered up was proof that no matter how calm he kept himself, she wasn't going to take this well. Pulling a towel from the rails, he threw it around her shoulders as the last of the water gurgled down the drain. "Look at you! You're shivering!" Sadly for Evelyn, she failed to interpret her husband's actions as kindness and pulled away from him too early as he helped her up. She slipped before finding her feet and slammed her knee into the thick porcelain. As she shouted out in a furious mixture of pain and anger, Rick pulled her in closer wincing with the thought of how much it must have hurt. Angered, embarrassed and pained, Evelyn wanted to punch him ... and tried too ... but for the fact that her arms were bound firmly beneath the towel held securely in place by his bear-like hold.  
  
Evelyn was crying now and struggling to stand alone, "You've got no right to barge in here like that! No right!"  
  
"Sshh. C'mon...you'll wake Alex up."  
  
"I DON'T CARE! YOU CAN'T JUST PICK ME UP AND PUT ME DOWN WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE IT!"  
  
She was really fighting to be set free now and Rick found himself with no choice but to get her out of the bathroom and dried before he lost his own footing and they both ended up a broken, wet mess on the floor. And, as expected, Evelyn kicked and screamed her frustration as soon as he began to carry her out!  
  
Once she was safely seated on the bed he let go and she immediately pounded her fists into his shoulders and chest over and again.  
  
And he let her. Her wild flailing more than once found his freshly stitched shoulder, but he did nothing to stop her. Even if she was aware of his injury, he wasn't sure she'd care much at this point in time.  
  
One by one, her blows weakened until she had nothing left and cupped her hands to her face and collapsed sobbing into his arms. This time there were no words. He just held on, for Evelyn and himself, and let her cry.  
  
~O~  
  
Rick woke to Ross' impatient shouts and thumping against the bedroom door. "Will ya get yaself up 'n' out 'ere before I'm forced t'knock this bloody door down!"  
  
"All right, all right! I'm coming!" Rick discovered that speaking was easier than actually getting up off the bed. His head and body ached from the fight with Furborough and his stomach was growling loudly with hunger. As he staggered towards the door, he truly believed he had seen better days and that thought was to be confirmed sooner than he expected. As he opened the door, Ross grunted and held up a newspaper for him to read. Rick squinted and pushed it aside, "Even if I could focus on that, you know I can't read it."  
  
"Is that a fact? Then let me translate for you." Ross flicked the newspaper away from O'Connell's face and cleared his throat. The next few words would see Rick's 'better days' in Egypt abruptly disappear. "It's quite simple really, it reads "LEGIONNAIRE FOUND DEAD IN NILE"  
  
end chapter  
  
ALDREA2 - Glad you enjoyed what you managed to read. Thanks for taking the time to review, it's appreciated.  
  
JULIE - What can I say! Thank you so much for your wonderful email. It was just so lovely :) Sorry I didn't answer all your questions, I was just so blown away by what you wrote. Umm...it's roughly two and a bit years between this story and HOMECOMING. Furby's first name is Haris, but I've only ever mentioned it once. I've honestly got no idea how long this story is going to be, I'm flying blind and just writing whatever comes to mind. Not a great way to plan a story I suppose, but that's generally how I do it. In truth, I wasn't expecting it to be this long.  
  
MOMMINTS - It was a wonderful compliment, thankyou. It means a lot that you're still hanging in there. I know it's taking me ages to post updates. hehehe, RIP Baby! I guess it suits him ;) And sorry I lost that incredibly helpful email you sent me. I was really annoyed with myself for that one. Must have happened while I was groaning about all the spam I was deleting.  
  
IMHOTEPS LOVER - Apologies for not getting to your story yet. My life gets very busy on me at times. It's the only excuse I've got, but it's an honest one. Thanks for all your reviews and I will read your story first chance I get.  
  
A.J.MACKEY - SURPRISE! I finally completed Ch.16!! ;) Don't worry, I want to slap some of these characters too...and I'm writing them in these situations. I often ask myself "what have I got myself into here??" Could Emir cause trouble? Well, you'll just have to wait and see ;) Thankyou for allowing me to bounce ideas off you, it's a wonderful help.  
  
LITTLE GREEN LAWN GNOME - Thanks muchly for the reviews. They are always appreciated.  
  
ANGELGUIDE - hehe, yes I'm maiming all of them. It's what I do best ;) Thanks for reading and enjoying.  
  
RUSE - My friend. You've been there from the beginning. Actually, you've been there for all my stories, even the really early fluffy embarrassing ones. Thanks a million fold! Yes, I guess if you're going to be held by a man, it might as well be a strong rich one, lol ;) Evie has put up with a lot, but she'll rise up, wait and see. A new villain? Yes indeed!! BTW, I'll happily accept Boromir with or without the one ring. Just send him down to me...quickly!  
  
DEN - Sorry, I'm not done torturing characters or readers just yet. Hope you can stand a little more. Thanks for hanging in there with me. I'm glad people like Ross too. He's fun to write.  
  
LADY-EVIE - Hmmm, don't know what to call this chapter. Stuff happened, but I'm not sure I'd call it good...sorry. Happy ending? Haven't decided yet ;) Thanks for the review :) 


	17. Red Sky In The Morning

No infringement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough A.Trigg and N.Waters are entities borne of my own imagination. Well, General Trigg partly belongs to A.J.Mackey. Before she mentioned him, he didn't even exist in my little world. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
Rated R  
  
CHAPTER 17 ~ Red Sky In The Morning  
  
Andrew Trigg sat tall and silent in the saddle watching his troop assemble. The almost crimson sunrise which framed their backs did more than merely allude to the scorching heat that awaited them on this journey; and the young General swiped at the beads of sweat already forming on his brow.  
  
His mount whinnied, tossing it's mane about restlessly and Trigg leaned forward to stroke the beast's neck. His eyes drifted across to the afflicted Neil Waters and he considered the man silently. The soldier had been carried into camp just before daybreak and his jaw tended to by the medic, but no questions were asked under orders from Trigg himself. It required nothing more than simple deduction on his part to understand that Waters' injury was the result of keeping company with the ill fated Furborough. Their friendship was notorious within the Regiment.  
  
General Trigg stood firm on his promise to his old friend, even to the point of distracting the local constabulary. They arrived not long after Waters was carried into camp and requested that the General identify the uniformed body which they had shrouded beneath a calico sheet and laid atop a dray. Under flickering torch light, Trigg deferentially identified his deceased Corporal and apologised at being unable to shed any light on how the man came to meet such an obviously violent demise. All he offered was an ambiguous thought about how quickly death can claim the reckless, especially those with Furborough's irascibility. Unsatisfied, and doing naught to disguise it, the Police hinted in their own tactless manner that conspiracy to murder, or hindering the law after the fact, carried no less a penalty than committing the deed yourself. But Trigg had given O'Connell his word on that matter and the provincial heavyweights could do little to stop the Legion from leaving, so that was an end to it.  
  
Waters' dull groaning jolted Trigg from his thoughts and he turned to look at the soldier, "You'll be wishing they'd thrown you in the river alongside Furborough by midday."  
  
The soldier coughed painfully. He was unable to speak and just the mere thought of midday seemed to make the agony worse. And these were the first words his General had spoken to him since his return to camp and there was no compassion in them. "Whatever part you played in the events of Corporal Furborough's death, or those leading up to it, will hold no sway with me unless you speak of them. To anyone! There will be no enquiry, nor will any charges be laid against you so long as your injury resulted in a fall from your horse." He paused briefly, staring hard at Neil Waters, "Do I make myself clear, Private?"  
  
His fractured jaw prohibited him from speaking clearly and the bandage about his head was hot and irritable, but the nod offered by Waters caused as much pain as if he had spoken. He was dreading the journey ahead of him and more than a little curious of the General's actions regarding Furborough, but he was smart enough to recognize a reprieve when one was offered him. Gingerly pressing a hand to his bandaged jaw, the wounded Private grunted his agreement.  
  
Trigg watched the soldier's agony a moment longer before casting an eye over the now assembled troop. He nodded for his second in command to move the Regiment out and the Officer obeyed. All horses jerked forward and Waters moaned miserably. Setting apace alongside his injured man, the General turned his head and spoke quietly. "You could have done worse, Waters. You may not have lived to regret it."  
  
Waters knitted his brow at this last comment then closed his eyes with the realization that bumping into O'Connell yesterday had been no accident.  
  
The procession moved steadily through the streets past Fort Brydon. Looking up, Trigg saw O'Connell standing on the balcony watching as the fleet of white passed by. He stood separated from the onlookers on the streets below and appeared transfixed with a different scrutiny. Neither American raised an arm in gesture to the other, but each conveyed an understanding and a farewell through a brief unbroken gaze.  
  
O'Connell stayed propped up against the balcony wall, watching solemnly until the entire Regiment had passed before stepping back inside.  
  
"Oh for pity's sake! Ya could at least 'ave donned a shirt before spreadin' yaself thick on t'world! And me just done with breakfast!"  
  
Rick turned to face his irritated friend. Bemused by Ross' disgusted reaction at his appearance, he ran a hand over the white singlet covering his chest and offered a look of indifference; this was his home and Ross could take him anyway he damn well found him! There were more important things to consider this morning. Things such as what to do should the problem of Furborough's death somehow find it's way back to him. So without a word, Rick turned and sat down to pour himself a coffee.  
  
"Bloody hell!" The Doctor's voice boomed out across the room unexpectedly and Rick spat the coffee back into his cup! "Who's 'ad a go at ya this time?"  
  
O'Connell waved angrily at his noisy guest, still choking on the hot coffee and furious at the sudden outburst! Unable to speak, he thrashed his good arm as a warning for the doctor to lower his voice. Evelyn was still asleep and he wanted her to stay that way.  
  
"For the love of all things black 'n' blue! What's 'appened now?!"  
  
Wiping the remnants of coffee from his face with the back of his hand, Rick pushed his chair back and whispered in angry frustration, "Will you keep your voice down. You know damn well what happened."  
  
"No, I believe I don't." Ross pointed to the American's shoulder, "What I know, is that last night I stitched that arm 'n' this mornin' it's a bloody mess again! Who's been tryin' t'kill ya between then 'n' now?"  
  
Rick twisted his wounded shoulder into view and saw the dried blood caked over Ross' handiwork. He'd felt every punch that Evelyn landed last night, but he hadn't realized she'd made it bleed. Surprisingly though, it didn't feel anywhere near as bad as it looked but Ross didn't know that as he took a firm, unsympathetic hold either side of the wound. "Jesus, Mary 'n' Joseph! Why don't ya limit yaself to one killin' a night!? Honest t'God lad! You're an accident lookin' for a place t'happen!" He pressed his thumbs over the wound and this time Rick winced and tried to pull his arm away. "So what did ya get up to after I passed out last night?"  
  
"Arrgh! Watch it will ya! I didn't get up to anything!"  
  
"I believe I must have done that." Evelyn's dry whisper caught both men off guard. She had been standing in bedroom doorway completely unseen all this time.  
  
It took Ross a moment for what she had said to properly sink in and when it did he spluttered nervously. "Oh I see. Well that's...that's um...different Lass. He probably deserved it. Good for you!"  
  
Throwing an angry glare in Ross' direction, Rick tugged his arm free and the pair of them stood silently like two awkward school boys who had been caught fighting in the playground, each eyeing the other in order to pass the blame. After all that had happened in the bathroom last night, this was something Rick really didn't want his wife to see. The quicker this scene was forgotten, the better. "Ross, why don't you..." Rick nodded towards the door and Ross gratefully accepted the opportunity to leave.  
  
"Yes. Right then!" The Yorkshire man back stepped awkwardly, "I'll just go 'n' fetch...ahh...whatever....I...ahh...I need to clean that arm up while the two of you....um....SIT!...yes that's it!" He hastily pulled a chair out for Evelyn and stood back. "The two of you just...ahh...sit down and....and...I'll be right back." And with a click of the door Ross had vanished.  
  
Rick stared at the closed door and sighed; meanwhile Evelyn had made her way over to the table and slipped silently into the empty chair. She looked quickly at his shoulder before lowering her eyes and making her hands busy fussing with the breakfast crockery. "I would have needed a weapon of some sort to cause that much damage. How did you come to get it in the first place?"  
  
Leaning across, Rick stilled her hands and gently squeezed them together running his thumbs over the grooves of her knuckles. "It's not important. Not enough for you to worry about anyway."  
  
She nodded, still staring at the table, "Oh."  
  
Rick wrapped one arm about her shoulder and leaned in to softly kiss her forehead, "You really should be resting."  
  
"Is he dead?"  
  
The question caught him by surprise although he knew it shouldn't have. He tilted his head back to see her and she was looking at him now, waiting for him to speak. He thought about lying to her; about playing dumb; even about ignoring her question completely; in the end he answered truthfully. "Yes."  
  
"Are you in trouble?"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"So what happens now?"  
  
He pulled her back into him and her head settled into his chest. "I fuss over you."  
  
Her half teary giggle had him forcing down a lump in his throat that had been threatening to choke him since he caught sight of her standing in the doorway. The morning air was humid, yet she still shivered against him and he rubbed her shoulder slowly. She was pale, ill and in no fit state to go anywhere other than back to bed and the nagging worry that he might be forced to move her and Alex out of Egypt ate relentlessly at him. Andrew may have managed to cover any lead on Furborough's death and keep Neil Waters in line at the same time; but it was only a matter of time before somebody put two and two together and pointed a greedy finger at him. He glanced about the room and was relieved to see that either Ross or Jonathan had removed the morning's newspaper and with it the grizzly news of a reward for a soldier's killer.  
  
He looked down at his wife. The corner of her lip was swollen and scabbed. Just below her chin and underneath were three finger-shaped bruises which had taken on a blackish colour. Last night when he pulled her from the freezing bath he had noticed similar markings on her shoulders and back. Bruises and scratches covered her arms and legs and now here she was shivering in the heat. Staying close to her bed was what she needed, but Rick knew his hand could be forced and that would mean moving her out of Cairo. Possibly even as far as London! It was obvious to anyone that she wasn't up to a journey like that. The only other option he had was to leave his small family here until the whole mess died down but there was no telling how long that would take. Besides which, the latter was now completely out of the question. No, he had to concentrate his efforts on laying low and making Evelyn well.  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
An ordinary question, but the sound of her husband's voice broke Evelyn's prolonged stare at his hand over hers. "Not really. Just some tea."  
  
As he watched the steaming brown fluid pour from the spout, Rick recalled the conversation he had with Emir. That look he saw in the Egyptian's eyes was playing on his mind and more than ever, Rick was convinced that this was a desperate man. If Wainwright shut the door in his face, Emir would find another way to save his skin. Huffing at the irony, he replaced the teapot onto it's coaster and Evelyn lifted her eyes to her husband briefly before reaching over silently for her cup. The china clattered as she knocked it, spilling the contents over her hands and staining the tablecloth. Pulling her hand away from the burning tea, she quickly placed her smarting fingers into her mouth.  
  
"Be careful!" Rick grabbed her hands and studied them before trying to lift her spirits. Sadly though, his light-hearted attempt to tease her backfired terribly due to nothing more than a few badly chosen words. "Clumsy." Smiling gently, he kissed the tips of her fingers, "It's just like banging your knee on the bath last night."  
  
Evelyn spat her words at him so abruptly and with an anger he had never heard in her voice before. "I challenge you to do any better if you were in my position!"  
  
"Sweetheart, I was only trying to cheer you up."  
  
"By calling me names! He didn't just shove me about and steal my handbag, Rick!" She was shaking and on the brink of tears. Her voice quivered as she banged her hands on the table causing the dishes to clatter when Rick tried to hush her. "Who knows how long he was following me just waiting for his chance. I went to find Ethan's grave because, according to you, it was necessary in order to feel as badly as you did!" Her eyes narrowed into slits as she scowled at him and Rick's heart thumped in his chest at the raw bitterness edging her words. "So I found his tiny grave and I stood there staring at it. All alone, just like you did." Evelyn tilted her head and in a hollow chirp asked, "Happy now?"  
  
Rick huffed the air from his lungs and pushed his chair away from the table, causing it's four legs to screech against the floorboards. He let his head fall forward but said nothing. Evelyn watched him briefly then continued, but this time her voice was nothing more than a whisper. "When I turned around he was standing there. Leering at me. No different than when he crept into my room while you were in Lybia. Only this time Jonathan wasn't there to shoot him in the leg. And of course, there was no you!"  
  
"Evie..." Rick held out his hands hoping against all odds that she would accept them, perhaps even sit on his lap and cry against his shoulder. Anything! Just so long as she didn't go any further. To his dismay, she refused the offer.  
  
"I was only ever there because of you. Because you blamed me." Her words were so quiet and each one fell onto the hardwood floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. "Did you ever stop to think that I was practically forbidden to step foot outside the bedroom?" Rick shook his head slowly in response just as she rose from the chair and laughed sarcastically towards the ceiling badly mimicking Dr. Campbell's accent, "Not 'til ye've fully recovered m'girl. HA!" She walked across the room keeping her back to her husband, "And you and Jonathan were sitting in the bar." Her last few words were spat in disgust.  
  
It wasn't shame that gripped Rick's heart; it was a profound grief. An abstruse sorrow verging on sickness deep in his gut. Every accusation she made hit it's mark cleanly and he couldn't bring himself to say anything, just to merely stare at the white porcelain cups and saucers sitting on a tea stained tablecloth. His only thoughts of what he might say to her were trite and too late. Whatever his anger over his son's death, whatever he had accused her of, she didn't deserve the fate that was meted out to her. Her voice began to intermingle with the vision in his mind of finding her laying unconscious and bloodied in a dirty back alley of Cairo and he closed his eyes again.  
  
"You didn't even speak to me when I told you I was taking Alex for a walk!" She paused with disbelief and her voice drifted with her thoughts, "You didn't even speak..." she turned to stare at her husband without really seeing him and continued in a voice that was barely there. "Do you know what he did?"  
  
Opening his eyes, Rick slowly lifted his head and bit his lip. He knew she was going to tell him regardless of his answer and he owed it to her to listen. But as he looked at her, he wondered if she knew everything? Had Ross told her exactly what he had told him, or was that something else to drop on her later? Once more, her voice crept over his thoughts and he heard what she was saying, "...smirking at me, not letting me past." Evelyn was wringing her hands and her knuckles were turning white, "I knew what was going to happen when I saw the other one blocking the way out..."  
  
"You don't have to tell me, Evelyn. I've got a good enough idea." He was trying to spare her the ordeal of telling him as much as he was trying to spare himself, but she deliberately ignored him.  
  
"...All of a sudden I couldn't see Alex any more!" She began to heave and panic, "I called out for him and then he grabbed my arm so tightly it hurt and then he shoved me backwards and I tripped and fell!  
  
Rick was standing in front of her now, "Evelyn. Please."  
  
"He was all over me! Laughing and sweaty..."  
  
Rick pleaded with her, "Evelyn!"  
  
She cried and spoke at the same time, "God! He just stank! And that horrid laugh of his!" She looked directly into Rick's eyes as he cupped her face in his hands and spoke to him as though she were hoping he could explain it to her. "He was pushing my head back against the ground and I kept telling him I had to find Alex but he wouldn't let me go!  
  
"Sweetheart, listen to me. None of this is your fault. None of it!"  
  
"Do you know what he did?" she whispered between tears. "Do you know?"  
  
Rick waited for a moment, still holding his hands to her face, then nodded.  
  
"I..." she was shaking her head and really crying now, "...I tried so hard but I couldn't stop him."  
  
He pulled her head against his chest, hoping this was the end. Even though part of him had wondered how long and how helplessly she had struggled, but now that the cold truth presented itself he discovered himself preferring it be left unsaid.  
  
"...and when I screamed he hit me and held my head down. The sand was choking me as much as his hand. It seemed endless and all I could hear was him grunting!" At this, Evelyn frantically broke her husbands embrace, pulling away sharply holding her mouth and stomach as though she was about to disgorge. "Oh God!" her hand muffled her revulsion. Rick touched her shoulder and she jerked away, hysterical. "I can still smell him! He's all over me!" Rick was forced to watch as she repeated the same frantic actions he caught her doing the night before in the bath. Her fingers clawed over her arms as though she was trying to scrape away some unseen cover. Her terrified account was slicing at him more savagely than any blade, yet he was left with no choice other than to listen as she painfully raged between anger and fear and finally a sort of detachment as though she were looking at a photograph of someone she didn't know.  
  
"It wasn't me. I couldn't have been." She caught his eye with her desperate question, "Could it?"  
  
God, what a question! There was no way of answering her. All he had to offer was sympathy.  
  
"I thought..." Yet again her gaze drifted, then her head and finally her feet followed until she was leaning against the back of a chair. "...I thought...that if I was as still as possible then it wouldn't really be me at all. But that just made him angry and he hit me again. Twice I'm sure, and then I must have blacked out because he was gone when I opened my eyes." A single tear slid down her cheek, followed by another and then another. "But it was me." She spun around to face him now, "Wasn't it Rick? It didn't end and he stayed there pushing the side of my face into the ground while he grunted...." her lip curled in disgust "...and grunted."  
  
~O~  
  
"Mena House." Emir Hammond spat onto the ground then slapped the dust from his pants, "Just bribe the doorman and they'll let you in." The frustration in his tone was sharp and the thief was in a dark mood. His thoughts fumed over his recent visit to the city's grandest hotel and the man he was refused an audience with. O'Connell had assured him that this Mr. Wainwright would be accessible and open to discussion on whom would deliver the loot, but he had been thrown back into the street without ever meeting the man. If things had been getting tight for Hammond over the last week, they were now desperate! He had less than two days to settle his debt and it was appearing more and more that he would be paying it with his life. Time was short! He was certain that Nasser would be looking for O'Connell as well and he had to get to the American first if he stood any chance of getting his money.  
  
The sun was sitting low on the horizon still. At the very least he had a full day to take advantage of. Then his eyes fell upon a notice plastered to the side of a building...and the penny dropped! A ghost of a smile crept across Hammond's face as he remembered how distracted O'Connell had been when they bumped into each other yesterday. How insistent he had been that same evening when he said he was pulling out of the deal and even willing to relinquish his share of the money. How dead that Legionnaire was who had his bloated face pictured on the stark notice glued to the sandstone wall. And how big the reward which was being offered for the murderer! Emir smiled.  
  
end chapter  
  
A/N: It's been a LONG delay between chapters in this story. Still, it's here now and I hope you all enjoyed. Thanks to everyone who emailed me to make sure I was continuing. It's nice to know people are still keen to see what happens. Life ... you know. After all the time it's taken me to write this chapter, I hope it's not too short because it feels as though it was a tome!  
  
MBOOKER: I am so very sorry. I missed you off the last thank you list and when I realized I felt terrible. You've been with this story from start and I forgot to put your name on the list. But not this time. You're first. Thank you for the reviews and for always reading. But what have happened to your own stories?  
  
AJMACKEY: Let it be known. Without my AJM this chapter would still be months away. This lady pulled me out of a severe writers block and threw in extra ideas to boot. Thank you for the encouragement and the help. Couldn't have done it without you.  
  
RUSE: My friend. Thank you for always hanging in there with this story and for writing such stories that inspire me to continue. Thank you for the emails and the Boromir pics and the distracting quizzes which make me laugh. You have no idea how much fun they can be! ;) You've yet to send me a naked Boromir though. After all, I did find a naked Hugo for you! ;)  
  
SHELBY: Another wonderful lady who's been there from the beginning. Thanks for everything.  
  
JESSICA: I've never worried about when reviews come, they're welcome at any time. Thank you. :) 


	18. O'Connell's Traitor

No infringement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough A.Trigg and N.Waters are entities borne of my own imagination. Well, General Trigg partly belongs to A.J.Mackey. Before she mentioned him, he didn't even exist in my little world. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.  
  
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher  
  
gama39@austarmetro.com.au  
  
PG 13  
  
CHAPTER 18 ~ O'Connell's Traitor  
  
He knew it was much too early to be downing shots at the bar, especially at such exorbitant prices but it helped to dull his aching limbs. Oddly enough though, the Bourbon did little to lift the weight from his heart. Physical pain was an old companion and O'Connell was no slouch when it came to gritting his teeth and ignoring it. In fact, he was renowned for his resilience amongst those who knew him; and it was that very thought which evoked a dry, ironic laugh. It crept past his lips hardly recognized while he concentrated on the clinging trail left by the expensive alcohol as it rolled lazily back and forth in his glass. He mused how simple stitches and bandages were utterly useless in the emotional minefield in which he found himself. Almost two years into his marriage and he was suddenly stumbling about as if he were blind. Sure, wedded bliss was exactly that when they started out, but the physical side of life had always come easy to him. Now, stretched out before him was an uncharted muskeg of grief and heartache complete with traps and pitfalls he never could have imagined.  
  
Deep down Rick was still angry about Evelyn's prodigious lack of common sense before Ethan was born and they had paid the ultimate price for her tenacity. And now, before any time had been allowed to grieve, the pain he was harboring over the baby's death was crushed beneath the weight of grief and guilt he felt over Furborough's assault on his wife. Lifting the Bourbon to eye level, the ex-Legionnaire watched the easy roll of the Bourbon in his glass and scoffed at the memory of some old soldier who spent an evening years ago warning him to steer clear of women lest he spent his life walking through a living hell. For a moment longer he remained lost in the past until slowly lifting the glass to toast his infant son, "Ethan!" then swallowed the contents in one go.  
  
A firm squeeze to his right shoulder jolted the American back into the here and now and he turned his head in time to see Jonathan propping himself onto the stool next to him. "Alright Rick?"  
  
Before he could answer, Rick spied Ross a few paces behind his brother-in- law and a grizzly curiosity washed over him. "You've left Evelyn and Alex alone upstairs?"  
  
"Kicked out would be more to the point." reflected Jonathan tapping impatiently on the bar for service "Just like you! So we thought we'd wander down here where we could all commiserate together. Hello....Service!" Knocking loudly for the barman ahead of offering the American a sympathetic grin that faded quickly on seeing how the news was affecting him. "But there's no need to worry!" he reassured, "The door's locked and she's got the key in her pocket." Rick continued to stare in question keeping Jonathan firmly on the defensive, "She told us to get out, Rick! God's truth!"  
  
"Yeah, maybe." Rick's ire abated slightly, "Just so long as she let's me back in!"  
  
"Aah yes...I see your point."  
  
A pantomime-like groan rumbled from beside them and both men turned to watch as Ross awkwardly settled himself at the bar. For just a little too long, both Englishmen sat silently either side of the hapless young husband who glanced suspiciously between the two. After a moment he enquired carefully, "So! You two came down here just to keep me company?"  
  
"Aye. That we did."  
  
"U-huh. Because Evelyn kicked you out?"  
  
Ross exhaled loudly while grabbing at his lower back, "Aye."  
  
"And you're groaning like that because...?"  
  
"Because..." The doctor glared accusingly into the eyes of his friend, "...I spent t'entire night in a chair as no-one saw fit t'wake me t'move! So...when I do manage t'stand upright this mornin', I'm straight away faced with you in an undershirt 'n' ya arm caked dry w'blood! Let's not forget that newspapers are carryin' each n' every detail of what ye got up to night before...which I had to keep hidden from ya missus I might add. And last...but by no means least...that same, sweet little lady of yours all but slams t'door behind me because she's angry at YOU!" Stopping to sip from his own glass and quietly relish in the American's discomfort, the Doctor added "..'n' seein' that sittin' down here feelin' sorry for yaself seems to be a rule of the day, I thought I might as well indulge meself too!"  
  
Rick delivered a snarling glare of his own, "You're very funny."  
  
"I'm very serious, lad!" Campbell's mood took a sudden swerve, "I'm not a big believer in luck, but I do believe you need it."  
  
"He's right." Jonathan rested his elbows on the bar and leaned his head over Rick's shoulder.  
  
"Alright!" Rick put his glass down and straightened his shoulders, "What are you two getting at?"  
  
Jonathan shifted his stool closer and leaned his head in towards Rick's, "Somebody must have seen you do that mongrel in last night and it's only a matter of time before they work out where to find you." He spoke just above a whisper causing Rick to smirk just a little, "Evie's already picking up enough pieces without any more trouble. That reward they've put out on your head is nothing to sniff at, you know!"  
  
"Ya know it's true, lad. Time here for you is all but spent" Ross too had moved closer yet managed to keep one eye on the door, "They'll hang man for murder in this town, as ya well know."  
  
Rick knew they were right...about everything, but this huddle they'd created either side of him was annoying and he pushed both of them back. He refilled his glass and drained it swiftly before responding. "Maybe so, but there was no-one last night who would have been sober enough to remember what I looked like! Besides, Evelyn isn't well enough to travel and I'm not leaving her and Alex alone again. We'll be safe enough here until this blows over.  
  
"That's easy enough to say, but aaaah, what if it doesn't blow over?"  
  
Rick turned his eyes toward his brother-in-law "Meaning?"  
  
"Meaning that grubby little visitor you had last night is a perfect example of someone who'll jump at the chance of a reward. He seemed pretty desperate to me and you seemed a little over eager to get rid of him. Understand what I'm saying? He didn't look stupid, Rick!" It was one of those moments when all of Jonathan's folly disappeared to reveal the full regard in which he held his sister. "You're saying the Fort is safe but you don't like leaving her alone in it. Face it Rick, nothing's going to blow over! You have to get my sister out of here before it's too late...or I will!"  
  
The American's reply rumbled deep and low at Jonathan's threat, "She's...too...sick! And you'd better can think twice before taking my family anywhere!" Husband and brother were locked angrily eye to eye until O'Connell dealt a blow of his own, "Nobody stopped you from going with her, ya know!" You sat here happily prepared to drink with me while she took Alex out, so don't start preaching about how you're gonna take my place if I don't follow instructions!"  
  
Insulted, Jonathan fired from the hip, "She's been my sister longer than she's been your wife and while my track record isn't exactly spotless, in all the time she's been with me she never came to any harm!"  
  
O'Connell seethed! Slowly and deliberately he set his glass down and turned fully towards Jonathan as Ross looked on anxiously. "The only reason you're not laying sprawled on the floor right now is because you are Evleyn's brother and I'd never hear the end of it."  
  
"If you were more of a husband we wouldn't even be discussing this!"  
  
In the blink of an eye Jonathan had been seized by the collar and hauled from his stool. He squeezed his eyes shut waiting for the inevitable crack of the blow to his face, but nothing, instead he was being jostled from side to side, "Let 'im go!" Jonathan peeked through one eye seeing only a struggle of arms between himself and O'Connell. Ross had hold of both the American's arms straining to make him release his grip "Let...'im...go I said! Breakin' his face will only land ya in more trouble!" The tussle continued a moment longer before Rick pushed Jonathan to the floor stepping away holding his arms spread wide to declare he had backed off. Ross kept his eye on the furious O'Connell to make sure he was done before offering a hand to Jonathan.  
  
"It'll be a cold day in hell, Jonathan."  
  
The threat was as cold as his brother-in-law's stare, but if Jonathan felt uneasy he was doing a remarkable job of disguising it. He held steady with Rick's menacing stare and spoke calmly. "Of course. But everything's fine, isn't it Rick?" he nonchalantly dusted down his sleeves and resumed his seat, "She and Alex are safe upstairs. Alone." He paused just long enough for his comment to take effect before adding, "I imagine there wouldn't be that many people in Cairo desperate for a break."  
  
~o~  
  
Emir choked against the sudden pressure around his throat and while still gagging, a sharp pain cracked across the back of his head. Pressed hard against a stone wall he clawed at the thick hand which crushed his air way. He strained to focus clearly on the thug who held him but it proved too difficult and it hardly mattered as they all looked the same to him anyway. No doubt it was one of Nasser's henchmen sent to hunt him down and ask all the unnecessary questions as to why no money was delivered last night, but this one took an obvious excessive delight in the initial beating. After another whack to his jaw, Emir was released and fell to his knees clutching at his throat and laboring for air.  
  
"Nasser is not happy. You missed your appointment last night and now he is most concerned that he will be left holding the merchandise longer than it is safe to do.  
  
Coughing through his continued efforts to heave air back into his lungs Emir remained on his knees and strained one pleading arm towards this hectoring messenger, "D...Double.....toni....tonight."  
  
Squatting before him, the henchman showed renewed interest, "Explain! Where would someone like you get that sort of money?"  
  
"Does it matter?" The air was coming easier now, enough for the Egyptian to relax against the wall but still too dizzy to stand, "All I need is today and I can deliver double what Nasser was expecting." Looking into the thug's expectant gaze, Emir bought his release, "And of course there will be a small percentage for all your trouble."  
  
The giant smiled. Then without warning he again wrapped his bulky fingers around Hammond's throat and squeezed, "I take a big risk letting you go. I expect my money at the door before I let you in to see Nasser."  
  
"Yes! Yes!" and Emir could breathe again. The thug stood over him in a show of power before slowly stepping away. Once he was out of view, the thief smiled at his changing fortune. Nasser, the henchman, Wainwright, they could all sit and wait in the dark. Once he had the reward money he would be free and clear! He'd be out of Cairo before anyone knew he was missing. Lady Luck was smiling on him at last.  
  
~o~  
  
Rick climbed the stairway in his usual manner of two at a time. By the time he reached the landing his leg throbbed against the exertion but it annoyed him more than it ached. He'd become weary of it's constant inconvenience and wished the damn thing would just heal. His arm wasn't anywhere near as much a problem unless people continued to punch or squeeze it. He was in a lousy mood! He prayed that Evelyn had not locked that door otherwise he wasn't sure how he'd react. In the bar, Jonathan had rambled on and on about how he needed to pull himself together and become the tower of dependability that he was in Hamunaptra, or some such shit! Rick had come close, perhaps too close, to punching his wife's annoying brother and Ross as well for that matter! His doctor friend had sat huffing and hmmm-ing in agreement with Jonathan until Rick could no longer take it! He would have gladly laid both of them out had it not been for the maddening fact that they were right! He did have to leave Cairo and he had to do it soon. Leaving Evelyn and Alex behind was out of the question and taking them with him ruled out seeking refuge in any of the bordering countries. The only safe choice for them was to go all the way to London, but how the hell was he going to get them there without Evelyn's health worsening over the journey? With any luck he would have at least a week left before things got too bad. It gave Evelyn precious little time to recover but it was better than nothing and it was more than enough time to organize things. They would have to travel under an alias and he would need someone to book the passage while he stayed low, so perhaps it was a blessing that he'd refrained from punching either Ross or Jonathan.  
  
Rick tested the doorknob. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or angry to find that it turned easily. She hadn't locked it after all, though a good sign was being able to hear Alex knocking his toys around and giggling. Maybe things were beginning to look up after all. The boy squeaked with delight on seeing his father enter the room and scurried over insisting on being lifted up. Rick smiled and winked at the child, tossing him above his head to hear the squeals of laughter it produced. For a few moments he was completely lost in his young son's happy face then noticed that Evelyn was fast asleep on the couch. Putting a finger to his lips he made his first attempts to hush the boy but ultimately he was unsuccessful. Alex would not be satisfied with his limited thrill and loudly demanded more. Nothing would quiet the child and Rick playfully scolded him on seeing his wife open one eye to witness her son's demand.  
  
"See what you've done? She's all awake now!"  
  
"Up!" The child waved his arms furiously above his head becoming increasingly cross the longer he was refused.  
  
"You know once you start that he never wants to stop." Evelyn's voice was croaky but she was smiling for the first time in days. The look on her face lifted Rick's heart and he needed to do something with the increasingly cantankerous child in order to get nearer to her, so he tipped Alex upside down and held him by the ankles. The squeals of laughter from the boy were ear piercing and Evelyn laughed a little as he dangled him over a bowl of fruit long enough for him to make a choice then quietly set him down. With his son occupied, Rick moved to Evelyn's side and gazed at the look on her face. "You're lucky he was hungry otherwise he'd still be wanting you to toss him about."  
  
He traced his finger lightly down her cheek and smiled, "If it makes you smile I'll do it all day." Evelyn dropped her eyes. It was partly to watch as Alex delighted in his juicy treat and partly to avoid more tears if she kept looking at her husband. No matter though, he lifted her chin bringing her eyes in line with his and dared to place a soft kiss on her lips. Silent tears escaped her eyes and he brushed them aside insisting gently, "No more of these. You're prettier when you smile."  
  
His words made her choke down a sob and wrap her arms around his neck. He relished it! He closed his eyes and held on to her whispering whatever reassurances he could think of. Slowly, he raised a hand to the back of her head holding her face just below his chin and rocked her. Every movement he made was slow and carefully predetermined for fear of startling her. "I'm surprised you're not angry at me for throwing you out earlier?"  
  
'You forgot to lock me out." It wasn't a lighthearted remark though neither was there any hint of anger in his voice at discovering the door unlocked. His tone was one of worry.  
  
Still, the connotations of his remark jolted Evelyn backward in protest, "No, Jonathan locked it behind him. I'm sure of it." Rick calmly dipped his hand into her pocket and produced the long brass key just as Jonathan had described. Evelyn watched it appear with disbelief and immediately started to defend her position, "But I was sure he didn't leave it with me...."  
  
"Evie, it's alright." Catching her flailing hands and pressing them together to still them, Rick continued "It's alright. Nothing happened, Evie. You're still safe." Yet even as the words passed his lips he understood that she wasn't safe at all and neither was Alex. None of them would be until they were half a world away from here. He pulled her against him aware that she was still proclaiming her innocence over the key and he let her believe it still mattered, but it was the words from Jonathan and Ross that were ringing in his ears. They were right and he'd been a fool not to see it. Fort Brydon would prove no haven in the long run. In fact, he knew he'd be lucky if he had a week before the authorities came looking for him. The cold, hard truth settled on him as he gently stroked his wife's back...the noose was closer than he had let himself believe and the three of them had to be out of Cairo by tomorrow night!  
  
A/N: this chapter has taken ages to write and I'm sorry it's so short. I've had a hell of a Festive Season and my whole family is ill (but getting better). I hope you enjoyed anyway. Next one will be longer. I normally add a list of thankyou's but just this once I'm skipping over this and will just add a sincere thankyou to everyone who has reviewed and is still reading this epic. I truly appreciate all your comments and reviews as they continue to inspire me to write. Cheers! Maureen. 


	19. Time To Go

No infringement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond,

H.Furborough A.Trigg and N.Waters are entities borne of my own imagination. Well, General Trigg partly belongs to

A.J.Mackey. Before she mentioned him, he didn't even exist in my little world. No money is being made from this story,

it's for enjoyment purposes only.

**CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL **

PG13

**CHAPTER 19. Time To Go.**

Hidden in a shaded doorway, Hammond kept a sly vigil on the gates of Fort Brydon and waited.

As time slipped away as steadily as the sun rose, he grew more and more anxious; and his gaze constantly darted back and forth between the gates and the distant bend in the road where he fully expected to see the Constabulary emerge at any moment. Had he owned one, a watch would have proven a curse by now and Emir spat onto the ground, vowing to shoot O'Connell himself and drag his body in for the reward if nothing eventuated soon. It had been hours since he had pointed the blame in the American's direction. He had even provided the number on his door! Did he have to lead the police up the stairs and open it for them as well?

Whatever the reason for the delay was beyond Hammond's comprehension right now; and his frustration would have certainly boiled over into anger had other matters not begun to weigh heavily on his mind. What if he had been forgotten yet again? Nasser was not renowned for his mercy and anything beyond this knowledge was too terrible to contemplate. Emir knew he needed to start worrying about his own fate...and soon. He remembered the few who still owed him a favour. Those whom, at the very least, would be obliged to hide him for a while. At best, they would be able to provide him with safe passage out of Cairo.

But suddenly there it was! Like a light in the dark! Three men marched around the corner wearing the colours of the Royal Guard.

Emir took a slow step out of the doorway and held his breath. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his dirty shirt he muffled an astonished laugh, "To be a guest of the King no less, O'Connell." The skinny thief unwittingly squeezed his fingers around a verandah post and gleefully awaited the outcome as the company disappeared through the Fort gates.

o

The door burst open slamming into the wall behind and the gun seemed to lift from Rick's hip of it's own accord. It was an instinct which had seeped into his very being and he only just noticed he had pushed Evelyn to the side in the process. The hammer clicked into place just as he recognized it was Jonathan rushing towards them, choking out his new between gasps, "Come on! Come on! No time for anything! You have to get out of here now! Right now!"

Turning the barrel of his gun towards the ceiling, Rick stole a glance through the window and enquired with an even -temper, "I take it we have visitors, Jonathan?"

"Yes. And they're not here for tea and cakes. You can take my word for it!"

Standing silent and afraid, Evelyn looked on as Jonathan peered down the stairs through a crack in the door while her husband deftly strapped an ammunition belt across his chest and checked the barrel of each gun before slipping them onto his person. "Where are you going?"

The first hint of any unease that Rick might be feeling was displayed with a flay of his hand as he hushed his wife in order to listen with Jonathan. He pushed the last gun into the back of his pants and looked over at Jonathan. "How long?"

"A minute or two, if you're lucky. Ross is doing his best but he won't be able to hold them for long."

"Do you know who they are?"

"More than you average policeman." Jonathan whispered while craning his neck in the impossible hope of seeing around corners. "I haven't seen this type before. The good Doctor's doing his best blocking their path, but I don't like his chances of being able to hold them off."

Turning to Evelyn, Rick halted on seeing the worry etched in her brow. Something he'd seen too often lately, yet never knew to prepare for. For a precious moment he slowed down to gently cup her face and place a kiss on her forehead. Pulling her closer, he whispered against her cheek, "Stay here with Jonathan and keep Alex close. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"When will that be?"

There was no time for an answer even if he had one. A commotion from downstairs intruded on them and Ross could be heard protesting about the "...hullabaloo of a foray..." and within moments he was drowned out by the pounding of thick boots over wooden floorboards making their way toward the stairs.

Seizing his brother-in-law by the shoulder, Jonathan forced him away from his sister, "There's no time for this now, Evie! With any luck he'll make it out the back before they see him!"

Rick offered a slight nod in agreement and stepped towards the door.

"Wait!" Evelyn insisted anxiously, "Where will you go?" Alex began to cry before his father could answer and time was out! Rick kissed her lips briefly and offered a look that promised he would be back. He turned and stood behind Jonathan, still with his nose to the crack in the door.

"All clear, now hurry!" Jonathan stood back allowing him to squeeze past him, "Wait!" An idea had come to him. Reaching into his hip pocket, Jonathan pulled out his key ring and tossed it to Rick. "Take these and hide in the boot of my car. It's parked out the back."

"The what?"

"Oh you know..." Jonathan's response was a mixture of urgency and irritation, "...the trunk! Hide in it." The guards approached the landing at the far end of the hallway and would reach the top in moments. Jonathan leaned forward to whisper his orders and literally pushed Rick to make him move, "Throw the keys in the back seat and hide yourself in the boot! I'll hold them here for as long as I can."

Clutching the keys in his fist, Rick turned the corner at the end of the hall and was out of sight with only seconds to spare. He made his way downstairs and through the back entrance into the rear courtyard. The Fort wall was about fifty feet away and the path seemed unhindered. Treading carefully into the sunlight, he surveyed the grounds for any sign of guards, but there was none. It seemed too easy and he was suspicious of a trap, yet he had no choice but to go forward. He was grateful for Jonathan's keys but he knew he couldn't just drive around Cairo. He rolled his eyes. As much as hated to admit it, Jonathan's idea of hiding himself away in the trunk was the best option he had. He managed to make his way through the gate without even so much as a nod from the British Sentry and was safe on the other side of the wall in only minutes. Jonathan's shining pride a joy sat parked about a hundred yards away; and for the moment Rick believed he was home free.

.o

Jonathan clicked the door shut behind him and Evelyn's heart pounded as he steered her towards the couch. All the while Alex just cried louder. Lifting the child, Jonathan tried to comfort him with a slapdash pat to his bottom before literally dropping him in his mother's lap. He wrapped his arm about Evelyn's shoulder without a moment to lose before the door banged open to reveal three of the most formidable men either of them had ever laid eyes on. With every confidence that their uniform spoke for them, the soldiers of the Royal Guard offered no identification as they invaded the O'Connell's sitting room. Two stood picket either side of the door while the third, and obviously senior, approached Jonathan and his sister.

"Captain O'Connell?"

Jonathan swallowed nervously, yet he hoped not obviously. He hadn't considered they might mistake him for Rick. "Absolutely not!" Rising slowly, he wasted a few extra moments in brushing down the front of his jacket. "And you can take it from me Mister...or Captain...aah..." No response was forthcoming from their unannounced guest, even at Jonathan's second request. Straightening his back, Jonathan carried on with a lump in his throat, "...Yes, well...you won't find Captain O'Connell here. It will be a cold day in Hell before I allow that."

Remaining silent, the Guard raised a single eyebrow and glanced over at Evelyn, allowing Jonathan to grow increasingly unsettled. He listened with amusement as the Englishman continued. He held out an open hand to gesture to his sister, "This is my sister, Mrs. O'Connell and my young nephew. I can say it's no small coincidence that O'Connell brings both you and I to my sister's door."

"And how would that be?" The guard stood motionless with his hands behind his back and his voice offered no hint of genuine interest in Jonathan's story. A point which was not lost on Jonathan, either, as he swallowed and carried on.

"As I said, you won't find O'Connell here. My sister hasn't even seen him in two days and is ill because of it. He's a bounder, you know. A fortune hunter. I always said he was no good but no-one ever listens to me; and here she is now only two years married and in fits of tears because he's grabbed a load of cash and taken off without so much as a glance over his shoulder."

"I see." The ranking Officer took a slow step backwards and stared at Evelyn. For too long she felt. His scrutiny was intense and was made worse through his studied silence. Evelyn squeezed Jonathan's hand and together they watched as the intruder cast a glance about the room. There was no immediate trace of the Legionnaire. No weapons or ammunition, no discarded hat or coat. Nothing, but a used whiskey glass. He lifted it, briefly turning it between his fingers before placing it gently back in it's position; always aware of the Carnahan's watching every move he made. Without turning to look at him, the Officer addressed Jonathan again, "You would have some type of identification proving who you are I assume, Mister ...?"

"And I would assume the very same about you." Jonathan voiced audaciously.

With little more than the Guard's menacing glare, Jonathan was convinced to quietly search through his coat pockets for his identification. "Carnahan's the name. I've been a guest here in Egypt for some years now." More small talk as he fumbled through his pockets. More time for Rick. "Aah, here they are. I'm sure you'll find them in order."

"And her's."

"It's all right Evie, stay there. I'll get them for you."

Even Jonathan's reassuring touch to her shoulder couldn't shake off her unease, but Evelyn refused his offer. Clutching Alex to her side, she stood and quietly walked over to the bureau and retrieved a thin leather wallet from the draw. Handing the same to the Guard she took a leaf from her brother's book, engaging in chatter to delay the hunt for Rick. "I believe you'll find everything here is as it should be."

Taking the wallet without looking at it, the soldier lifted the documents from within and slowly unfolded them. "I see there is one for you and your son; and there is one for your husband."

"Of course!"

"Strange that he would leave without these? How far does he expect to go without them?"

Evelyn's heart pounded so hard she feared it might be noticeable, "My brother told you. I haven't seen him for three days."

"Two days."

Anxious with the whole situation, Evelyn could only stare in response.

"Your brother said he has only been gone for two days."

"Does it matter? Papers or not, I have no idea where he's gone to." Evelyn summoned a trace of her old self and plucked the documents from his fingers and returned to her brother's side, "Why are you looking for him anyway? It can't be for my sake."

"It would seem your husband is wanted for murder. A most viscous crime, wouldn't you agree?"

This time, Evelyn's heart stopped! Alex was still whimpering; and not knowing how or what to say, she turned her efforts towards the child and left Jonathan to pull up the slack.

"Well I can't say that's a surprise! Can you, Evie?" Jonathan's knack for always faking the appropriate tone for any situation had irritated his sister for most of her life, but not today. Today she silently played along by shaking her head sorrowfully while still attempting to hush her son. All these, apparently wasted, years Jonathan had spent practicing his poker face and stony gestures were about to pay off....she hoped.

Pushing his hands into his pockets, her brother grumbled from deep within his throat and walked across to the window. "The man was never any good, Evie. Always unreliable!" He noticed there was no sign of anything happening in the street below; which hopefully meant Rick had got away without any trouble. But his car was parked out of view and nothing was certain yet, so he carried on nonchalantly for the benefit of the Officer, "I warned Evie before she married him, but you know how these girls get before a wedding." The Guard stood firm, playing the Englishman's bluff and remaining silent while he rambled on. "She and the boy will be better off with me anyway, I can guarantee you that. As for the whereabouts of O'Connell, well...that's another matter all together. I'm afraid I can't help you there."

"Then you believe the accusation placed against your brother-in-law, Mister..." The Guard checked the papers in his hand, "...Carnahan."

"To be honest, nothing would surprise me, Mister, I mean Captain...errr." The soldier remained recalcitrant, "...yes, well...she'll be better off in the long run if she comes home with me, that's all I can say."

The Guard sighed and smiled knowingly. Picking up the discarded whiskey glass once more, he sniffed it's contents and showed it to Jonathan. "Did you know I saw you running up the stairs, Mr Carnahan? I doubt you had time enough to indulge before I arrived..." Jonathan remained stoic but he was beginning to feel ill in the pit of his stomach. "...And I pray that Mrs O'Connell has not been squandering her lonely afternoons by sipping from the bottle?" Placing the glass down decisively, his voice carried a hint of anger as he turned to face Evelyn, "Harboring a fugitive is a punishable offence, Mrs. O'Connell. Even one who supposedly abandons you."

Now completely lost for words, Evelyn looked to Jonathan just as Alex's distress peaked, forcing his uncle to raise his voice above the child's wailing. "Yes! Well, I'm sure you employ these tactics on all ladies, but O'Connell is not here and intimidating my sister isn't going to change that. Perhaps it's time you left and continued your search for him some place else!"

The soldier smirked and handed Jonathan his papers. "Of course." He signalled for his men to prepare to leave and walked towards the door, sharply aware that Evelyn was still unable to look at him. A situation he wickedly made worse with his parting remark, "We will find your errant husband for you, Madam. If only to return him to your wrath." Evelyn pressed her son's head against her shoulder, bouncing him in what was now a completely nervous reaction rather than any real attempt to soothe him. She knew if she dared turn around to even glance at the insufferable man she would give the game away. Yet something told her it was too late to worry about that.

o

"Too long. Much too long." Emir muttered to himself. "What's taking so long?" He shifted nervously in the shop doorway, his eyes still peeled on the Fort. Minutes ticked over with no sign of the King's Guard _or _O'Connell! Precious, wasted minutes that kept him wedged between Nasser's men and the reward! Urgency consumed him and he stepped out of the shadows and made for the Fort gates. A pointless act of course but, like all anxious people, Emir found it more bearable to be closer to the events in the hope it would speed matters along. However, in this instance it appeared luck had smiled on him once more. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of the American on the outer of the rear Fort wall.

"HEY!" It was a spontaneous and desperate shout on seeing O'Connell and all he could muster from the disbelief on seeing him obviously escaping through the back. Hammond's feet refused to move forward, merely shuffling beneath him. "HEY! STOP!" At last, adrenaline kicked in he ran forward, still shouting, "STOP!"

Rick spun around, taking notice of the skinny half-breed rushing towards him waving and flapping his hands high above his head. "What next?" He couldn't decide if he was irritated to find Emir dashing up a back alley at a time like this or if he should be worried for his safety. Shaking his head, he motioned his peculiar friend to stay back, "It's not safe, Emir. Later!"

Now within ten feet of each other, Emir slowed to a walk, panting heavily. "It is for me, my friend."

The smug expression plastered on Hammond's face made Rick uneasy. Even before Emir finished his sentence he knew that Jonathan had been right...again.

"But it's not safe for you. You see.you go to the gallows....and I get the bounty on your head."

"Bounty?" A bluff was all he had to play with and there was no time to stand around trading stories with a thief. "You got the wrong guy, Emir. I'd get out of here if I were you."

"No, no O'Connell. Not again. You don't leave me in the lurch again. This time I _do_ get the money. My life depends on it."

Rick shot a look along the Fort walls searching for any sign of guards or police, taking his eyes off Emir just long enough for him raise a pistol. He heard the hammer engage and sighed in frustration. His little thief friend was pointing the barrel just inches from his head.

"I can't let a murderer go free, can I?" The smirk across Hammond's face was enough to make O'Connell spit.

"You expect me to believe that you've suddenly developed morals?"

"Hehe, you don't give me enough credit, O'Connell. I've always had a great respect for life...especially my own."

O'Connell smiled, "Pity you won't have it for much longer." He snatched Emir's elbow and twisted it, forcing him to drop the pistol and sank his knee into his stomach. Emir doubled over, dropping to the dusty ground before a blow to the back of his neck sent his face sideways onto the street. A stray dog scuttled out from behind a row of crates, barking as it made a direct line for the fallen Egyptian and took a fierce hold of his left leg. O'Connell took a few steps backwards, making sure that Emir wasn't getting up again and chuckled at the sight. "Man's best friend." But time was still of the essence and thanks to Emir's little performance, he knew now that he absolutely no choice but to follow Jonathan's suggestion and hide in the car.

The car! It was still a hundred yards away and his leg was throbbing...AGAIN! He could have sworn he'd broken one of Evelyn's ornaments and been cursed by the Goddess of Spite...or someone like her. If things could get any worse, he was sure he couldn't see how, but he was sure he knew they could. Kneeing Emir in the stomach may have saved him from a bullet at close range but it was doing nothing for his stride.

That damn dog was still growling, making Emir scream even louder. It wouldn't be long before the whole alley was swarming with sticky beaks, or worse.

"Help me!" Emir's cries for assistance weren't abating and all too soon he heard the familiar marching of soldiers.

His fingers fumbled through Jonathan's key ring. Which one? He had no idea and there was no time left. He didn't even chance to look behind him as he stuffed the keys into his trouser pocket and lifted the steel grid covering a man hole by his feet and jumped in. It wasn't as deep as the one which saved his life almost two years ago and he sucked the air through his teeth on landing; his damn leg again! The constant pain of that stab wound seemed the only constant in his life at the moment, nevertheless he gritted his teeth and hoisted himself up by his elbows onto the rim of the hole, retrieved the steel cover to drag it back into place above his head and dropped back down again. He found himself wishing he'd given Furborough a slower death after all. This wound seemed destined to plague him and never heal; and now he was in a pitch black sewer tunnel which he knew he was incapable of crawling about in even if he'd had a torch. And it stank like nothing on Earth!

Little more than a minute passed before he began hearing muffled voices and footsteps from above. His pursuers were taking a special interest in the car above him and he could make out Emir's insistent voice, but happily nobody seemed to notice what was beneath their feet. He smiled at the irony and thought perhaps he had been too quick to judge. It seemed that the Goddess Of Small Mercies was beginning to take an interest in him.

Rick waited in the cramped, smelling darkness long after he heard the voices fade into the distance. He knew that whatever happened next needed careful thought. All the impulsiveness of the last few days needed to be curbed if he was to get out of this alive with Evelyn and Alex. But even with impulse set aside, it was absolutely clear that they all had to be out of Egypt within a day.

With his mind made up, Rick steadied his back against one side of the wall and pressed his good leg against the other and hoisted himself upward. With great effort, he managed to shift the iron cover enough to one side so as to slip his fingers through the gap and push it sideways. Sunlight filtered through as he once more dropped hard to the bottom of his hideout. Then, for one last time, he dragged himself up and out into the quite alleyway and headed back into the Fort.

**END CHAPTER**

Ruse, AJMackey, MBooker, Julie, Starlight and Molllie...thankyou. I know this chapter has taken an eternity to surface and I sincerely hope it was worth the wait. I promise not to take so long in future. When the urge fades there's no use beating your head against a blank screen. But when it comes back, it's a great feeling. Thankyou for the encouraging (and somewhat impatient) emails. I'm sorry you had such a long wait. More will come soon.


	20. Plans

No infringement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers & Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond, H.Furborough, A.Trigg and N.Waters and Lt.Gen Masoud are entities borne of my own imagination. Well, General Trigg partly belongs to A.J.Mackey. Before she mentioned him, he didn't even exist in my little world. No money is being made from this story, it's for enjoyment purposes only.

**CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL 20 Plans.**

With his back pressed hard against the Fort's stone walls, Rick cautiously edged his head around the corner. The rear entrance which had previously offered up his escape had now attracted a congregation of guards eager to be part of the excitement. Exasperated, Rick withdrew to consider his options; shoot his way through and automatically bring back the Royal Guard, or get into Jonathan's trunk. Neither choice was appealing, but seeing as the first held slightly more challenge than the second, the now fugitive O'Connell raised his gun and silently took the corner ready to open fire on the picket. He aimed; and in a heartbeat raised the gun over his head, quickly retreating around the corner to be hidden once more. He held his breath and waited. For a minute or two, it seemed that fortune still favoured him but he had no idea of where to go next. Then, the steady sound of footsteps drew closer. _Damn!_ He knew he'd been spotted. With gun at the ready, he braced himself for the moment the figure appeared around the corner and snatched him by the collar pushing him firmly against the stone blocks, menacing the gun a whisker from his face.

"YOU!" Rick heaved.

"AYE!" growled the doctor. "I'll be thankin' ya t' get that thing outta me face!"

"Do you know how close I came to shooting you? Twice!" Rick hauled Ross over to the other side of him and once again stole a glance around the corner. The guards were still lingering, making a nuisance of themselves.

"No, just the once. Ya were plannin' on takin' a hostage just now til ya discovered t'was me. Weren't ya, ya fool!"

Rick let his head fall back against the wall in exhaustion. The wound to his shoulder was bleeding again and that incessant ache from his thigh was becoming an all too regular companion. He sighed heavily, his knees almost buckling beneath him. "You got any better ideas, Ross, cos I'm all out."

The doctor reached a sympathetic hand to his younger friend's shoulder, "I wasn't standin' around back there just to pass t'time of day with that lot, ya know. We've got a few ideas in t'pot."

Rick smiled slightly with a mixture of appreciation and relief. "Evelyn and Alex?"

"Safe with Jonathan."

"I need to get all of us out of Cairo before sunrise tomorrow. You know that, don't you?"

"We're well ahead of ya in that regard. Jonathan will get them on the train to Alexandria tonight and he'll travel with them in order to hold up his story."

"Which is?"

"Evelyn had to protect herself and the boy as **_well_** as you...you _**do** _realize this don't ya, Lad?"

Rick merely grunted a response in order to speed along the story.

Campbell nodded, "Right. Well she told those soldiers that she hadn't seen hide nor hair of ya for two days. The story is that ya've run out on 'er and Jonathan's the dutiful brother in 'er time of need."

The American snorted angrily but to no avail. Ross just held up his palm to silence any outburst. "There wasn't much else she could've said given the circumstances and once ya calm down you'll understand. Besides, it's the most logical story considering that most of Cairo has seen you two biting each other's heads off this past month or so!" Rick only stared angrily at his old friend and shoved the gun back into it's holster. "It's t'best way, son."

"Yeah, I guess. But even Alexandria isn't far enough away, Ross. We've gotta leave the country."

"One step at a time." assured Ross, "That's all we can do."

"Mmm." Rick knew he was right, yet his gut was still insisting he travel with his wife and son. "So what's the plan for you and me?"

"Right now or later?"

Not understanding, Rick questioned him silently.

"Well, later we'll attempt an escape of our own, with you hidden in t'boot of Jonathan's car if necessary. As for right now, I'm going to organize a bath because ya stink to high heaven! It smells like ya fell into a cesspool."

Rick opted not to answer.

"It **_was_** a cesspool, wasn't it?"

Silent and irritated, O'Connell rubbed his hurting shoulder and squatted to ease the load on his feet, while his failure to answer confirmed the obvious.

"Well we can't go back inside. We'll just have t'come up with another option because I'll be damned if I'm going t'put up with that stink any longer than I have to."

"Forget it. We don't have the time anyway"

"Aye! We do! And we will! There's nothin' we can do 'til nightfall anyway."

"So what do you suggest...a dip in the Nile?"

"Nah, I've another place in mind, but I doubt t'little lady would approve. Still, what she doesn't know won't hurt 'er."

oooo

Jonathan moved away from the window once Ross stepped out of sight behind the Fort walls. The thin veil of the curtain made it too difficult to see if the Yorkshireman was about to meet up with his brother-in-law or not, but he considered it best not to stick his head out into the open air for a better view. The last thing he needed was for anyone to notice him behaving anxiously. He just had to trust that Ross knew what he was doing. "_Forced to trust a Yorkshireman." _He sniffed at the irony and turned his attention toward his sister.

"Come on, old girl!" Jonathan clapped his hands sprightly, "Let's get you packed."

Evelyn stood behind her opened suitcase completely despondent with the whole turn of events. "It's impossible Jonathan, I can't fit everything into one case."

Stepping closer, Jonathan leaned in front of her and removed all the clothing she'd packed for her husband. "If they decide to follow us and search the bags we can't be caught with anything that will give us away." He dropped O'Connell's clothes onto the bed and gently squeezed an arm about her shoulder, "I'm sorry, Evie. It's the only way."

Looking about the room, Evelyn remembered how Rick would groan about their lack of space and his frustration with her wanting to remain at the Fort instead taking a bigger house. She could almost hear him grumbling about how pointless it was to have all this money and not be able to put it to use. The hint of a smile accompanied a tear as her mind's eye saw him give up the argument as useless. Everything she saw in this room today he had moved at some point or another in his vain effort to clear the clutter out of his way. Now, looking up at her brother she wondered aloud, "Are we ever coming back?"

"Don't know, old mum. One day perhaps."

oooo

"Can't we just go to a normal bath house?" O'Connell appealed. "Aren't we meant to be inconspicuous?"

Ross nudged him through the door, weary of his friend's asperity, "This **_is_** inconspicuous, Lad."

With deadpan response, Rick turned to leave, "It's a brothel."

"It's a brothel with bath tubs." Ross shoved hard against his wounded shoulder, "The **_only_** one with bath tubs...which are concealed right out back which serves our purpose nicely."

"And you know this because...?"

Campbell smiled pleasantly prior to giving him one last shove allowing him enough space to close the door behind them. "They won't be looking for ya in a bath now will they? Pay the man?"

"I'm paying as well?" Receiving no reply, Rick begrudgingly threw his last two notes onto the counter and proceeded inside.

"Don't worry..." Campbell chortled behind him, "I'll never breathe a word."

oooo

"It's pretty clear he's not going to try anything in broad daylight." Emir Hammond was living dangerously believing he use arrogance with the Royal Guard, but he couldn't afford to let O'Connell get away. Without the reward all he had to look forward to was a beating from Nasser's henchmen and he knew anything these soldiers could do would pale in comparison. The lanky thief was completely fed up with this whole situation. He couldn't understand why finding one American in Cairo was **_so_** difficult, after all the man was hardly inconspicuous. All he needed was O'Connell and money; that's all, but it seemed completely impossible. This combination just wasn't going to eventuate whether it be their ill-devised cemetery heist or chasing the American for the bounty on his head. At least by annoying this officer he might win a night in the cells safe from Nasser's thugs. "If he's quick enough to disappear as easily like he did today, he's probably already miles away and laughing at us".

"You seem most sure of this, Mr Hammond. It makes one curious as to just how well you know our elusive Captain O'Connell?

It was a leading question and too easy for the seasoned Emir to avoid "Surely it's obvious?" and he dared a little further, "Even to you?"

Lieutentant-General Masoud stood before the lanky half caste as menacingly as he had before Evelyn O'Connell only hours earlier, "How so?"

Emir leaned forward in his seat, rested his elbows on his knees and stared through the window at the sweltering afternoon heat, "He's guilty, why else would he have run? So you have to ask yourself, where would he run to?"

Masoud kicked the chair out from under the insolent informer sending him crashing to the floor. "ENOUGH, Do you think me an idiot!.

Emir gathered himself together quickly and reclaimed his chair. Any embarrassment was well worth the reward money. He believed this so strongly that he even dared to repeat his boldness and scorned, "He's an American isn't he? So let's pretend for a minute that he might try to get home."

The Lieutentant-General smiled crookedly and without warning, once again sent Hammond sprawling to the floor. "I did not reach my station in life by having opportunists like yourself do my thinking for me, Mr Hammond. I have little doubt that Captain O'Connell will attempt to leave Cairo," Masoud spoke directly to the back of Emir's head, never once raising his voice, "What sort of soldier would I be if I lacked this type of foresight? So please, let's not indulge in any more nonsense. Just tell me what our American Captain looks like and where he's likely to bide his time until he's ready to make a move."

Now unsettled, Emir cautiously reclaimed his seat and in the same manner offered a careful description of O'Connell. "...oh, and he's injured." Commanded to continue, he shifted in his seat before quietly uttering, "His leg. Last time I saw him he was limping badly. And there's a fresh wound to his left arm." He glanced up, feeling encouraged but still wary, "Fresh...because there was blood on his sleeve...it was damp...you know?" A moment passed while he wiped his brow, "He's tired too. Whatever he does next, he's going to need help."

Masoud exhaled thoughtfully, "Tell me, Mr. Hammond. Do you believe he has deserted his wife and child?"

"Who, O'Connell?" Emir didn't know and shook his head. "All I can tell you is that she's the reason he didn't meet up with me..." Stopping awkwardly before he said anything about their doomed investment, he found himself struggling for words under the intense gaze of his minder.

"You were saying, Mr Hammond? "

Taking a breath he swallowed and began to spill information at a rapid pace, "The night of the murder he was meant to introduce me to a friend of his. Someone who needed workers to lift and carry items that were going out of the country. All above board, of course." His awkward smile did nothing but expose a chipped tooth at the front of his mouth. "When he didn't turn up I went to his home and he said his wife was sick and he refused to keep our appointment. All he gave me was a name and an address; but without O'Connell this man wouldn't see me."

"Which man would this be?"

The story dragged on, fuelled by Hammond's bitterness. It revealed nothing of use and only irritated Masoud. "I see how you are angry with Captain O'Connell, but you are only wasting my time if you have accused him of murder out of spite."

This affronted Hammond, "You know yourself that the witnesses in the bar said it was an American and **_my_** description fits with theirs." Pointing to his own chest in a childlike huff, "I saw him that same night and he'd been in a fight."

"How badly do you need this reward?"

"Very badly!" Vigorously defending his actions and beliefs, Emir raised his voice. "It wasn't me who threw that man in the river. I'm doing the right thing here and giving you a murderer so don't turn this back onto me being greedy or however you're trying to make me look!"

Masoud smiled.

"Even you have doubts about whatever his wife told you, so it must be her who's helping him." Silence fell between the two men for what Emir felt was an eternity. _It must be her!_ he reassured himself. _I can't have come this far for nothing._

Masoud sat down. "I don't believe you Mr. Hammond. I think you're a liar and a thief. In fact, I believe that you and Captain O'Connell were in the midst of planning something very illegal. However, luckily for you, I do not believe Mrs O'Connell's story either and I am not looking for thieves..."

Hammond had been holding his breath without realizing it

"...at least not today."

Too uncomfortable to answer, Emir just sat in obedient silence.

oooo

"Aye, ladies. Bye-bye." It was an effort to persuade the last girl from the room but Ross eventually managed by way of good humour and a quick pat on her bottom. She giggled dutifully as the doctor squeezed the door shut, just missing the hem of her skirt. "Aye darlin', many thanks." They were gone at last, much to the men's relief. Pretty as they were, they were giddy and noisy with a tendency to pickpocket. Rick retrieved his wallet from the less experienced girl after she dropped it trying to conceal it in her waistband. Annoyed, he snatched it from the floor and showed her it was empty, but the older of the two wriggled her way between them and began making a fuss over O'Connell, forcing him to step backwards, raising his hands above his head to throw her off.

Once alone, the two men stood quietly observing each other. One amused, the other exasperated. It was the doctor who finally broke the silence.

"Get in then."

O'Connell sighed; shook the fatigue from his shoulders and slowly unbuckled his belt. "If Evelyn hears **_anything_** about this you'll die with me. Got it?"

"Well who'd 'ave thought ya'd have so much bloody trouble getting ya shirt off!" The joke fell flat and Ross scoffed at him, "Anyway, all she did was peel it off your back." It only took a raised eyebrow from the American for Ross to understand immediately. "No more said then." The dried blood from his wounds combined with street dirt and sweat dissolved into the hot water, but not without stinging. It was _'steady as she goes'_ as he lowered himself into the tub. When at last he rested his back against the tub, his shirt and other garb landed unceremoniously into the water with him. "Wash these along with ya'self. They'll be dry by dusk." The clothes were dunked and squeezed out in slapdash manner and immediately tossed back. Screwing his face up at the sopping bundle, Ross hung them through the open window to catch the hot afternoon breeze, "Since when does wet equal clean? " Rick ignored him, closed his eyes and let his head drop back to allow the steam to wisp about his face while he considered his predicament,

"I know my way around the alleys and there's a few handy dark corners. With any luck we'll be able to avoid any attention and meet up with Evie and Jonathan at the station tonight."

"Not tonight. Alexandria is where we meet."

Tilting his head towards Ross, his eyes opened as the ire rose in the American's voice, "This is **my** call, Ross."

"In Alexandria ya can lead all t'way to China for all I care, but not 'til then." Ross's stern tone left no room to argue and he played expertly on the influence which their history afforded. "Let ya lass leave quietly with the boy. She's been through enough already 'n' Jonathan will see 'er safe."

He didn't like it. No matter how devoted Jonathan was, Rick would rather it was he who saw Evelyn and Alex out of Cairo. Frustrated and with no other solution, Rick dunked his whole head beneath the hot water. It was just a shame that the soothing effect didn't transfer to his mood as well. He pushed himself up just as abruptly, madly rubbing his fingers through his hair. "Alright! Your way sounds fine."

"Aah, diplomacy." Dr Campbell leaned back against the wall, stretching his legs before him. "But I've learned that with you, diplomacy is nothin' more than saying _'nice doggy'_ until ya can find a rock."

O'Connell didn't answer. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bath, his mind a buzz with plans.

**END CHAPTER**

Thankyou to everyone who continues to read this story and hold an interest in it. I know it's been a long, drawn out process and I really appreciate that many of you keep coming back to read the updates. Thankyou.


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